


Partners In Crime And Life: Zouis Drabbles

by StormDancer



Series: One Direction Drabbles [4]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 32,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/StormDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my Zouis drabbles, AU ideas, and other snippets, originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of all the Zouis drabbles I've written on Tumblr. Some of them will be long, some short; some won't even be proper drabbles at all, just summaries of what I would write. Mostly unbetaed, so there very well could be some typos, sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Prompt: **Mamihlapinatapei**  - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.** _

They’re running from an irate Paul, Zayn not a half step behind Louis and muttering things like ‘hurry hurry hurry’, and then Louis spots an open door and takes a hard turn to go in, Zayn a pace behind. They brace themselves on a wall panting as quietly as they can, as Paul and a security guy goes storming past, and the one-two-three beats and they’re laughing, vibrating with adrenaline and glee, and Louis turns to look at Zayn and he’s looking back with a blinding smile on his face and victory and laughter in his eyes and he might be imagining it but Louis thinks _maybe—_

They’re in a hotel room on a quiet night, the rest of the boys off at a club or something, but the two of them hadn’t needed to talk to agree that they didn’t feel like that, that they’d rather stay in and watch a film. So they’re cuddled together on the bed in Zayn’s room, their feet tangled and shoulders brushing, and Louis yells something at the TV, then looks over at Zayn to see if he agrees. Zayn’s looking back, and there’s that something in his eyes again, like his heart is smiling, and Louis thinks _maybe_ —

They’re on stage, a thousand thousands eyes on them, and Louis finishes off his verse and passes it to Zayn. Zayn’s voice echoes out, brilliant as always, and Louis can’t help his smile at him, and then Zayn is turning and crooning off his verse of a love song in this direction and it could almost be at him and Louis thinks _maybe—_

They’re on the bus, and Zayn’s just finished Skyping with his sisters, so Louis goes to find him because he knows he won’t ask. He grabs Zayn and sits him down and starts asking about his sisters’ lives, trying to get him to focus on the good stuff and not the homesickness pounding at them, and when Zayn’s finished giving him a play by play of their entire lives he glances over at Louis with a muttered ‘thanks’ that Louis knows is no less heartfelt for being quiet, and Louis thinks _maybe_ —

They’re in the Mystery Machine, their own private clubhouse, and the air is thick with the stink of weed. Louis’s head is in Zayn’s lap and he’s playing with Zayn’s fingers as Zayn goes on about how everything is connected or some other such shit, but he has such pretty lips and his voice is so nice sounding Louis would still listen to him for ages, if only because he loves how much Zayn thinks. He’s so distracted by Zayn’s lips, though, that he doesn’t realize Zayn’s stopped talking until he blinks and Zayn is smiling down at him, and Louis thinks _maybe_ —

They’re fighting, about something stupid and not at all important and yet Louis is yelling and Zayn is hissing out insults and Louis is angry, he really is, but Zayn is also beautiful when he’s mad, his eyes burning and his cheeks flushed, and Louis doesn’t make him mad on purpose but that’s only because he’s the only person he can’t. “Are you even listening to me, Lou?” Zayn spits out, and he grabs Louis’s shoulders to make him and Louis thinks _maybe—_

They’re in an interview, and someone says some shit about Harry that has Louis ready to attack because interviewers know fuck-all and they never think about what they’re saying and that at the heart of it they’re just boys trying to do their best, and Harry has it worst of all because everyone is always looking at him. Then there’re nails digging into his thigh and Zayn is giving him a steady, even look that Louis can lock onto, can anchor himself in. He settles back, and Zayn looks away but keeps his hand on his thigh like he knows it’s keeping Louis steady, and Louis thinks _maybe—_

They’re running again, laughter coming between harsh breaths as they flee the scene of the crime before Liam finds it, perfectly in step, and it’s Zayn who spots the hiding place between two buildings and sidesteps in, snagging Louis’s wrist so they pivot into place, momentum carrying them until Zayn’s back is against the wall and Louis’s slammed into him, Zayn breathing out an ‘oof’ as Louis hits. Then suddenly they’re still that close, and still laughing, and Zayn is staring at Louis with that look in his eyes and his gaze is darting to Louis’s lips then back again, and Louis thinks _yes_.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Prompt:** **we met at a really strict summer camp and ended up breaking all the rules together one by one AU** _

“It’s been a good summer.” Louis stretches out on the grass. The moon is high and full above them, but the grass and air still have the warmth of the summer day, and Zayn is next to him, and he thinks despite everything he could stay here forever.

“You mean despite the amount of time we’ve been confined to our cabins?” Zayn retorts. Louis would hit him, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with the fight he knows would come out of it. Not even if—well, not even if he maybe likes those fights more than he should, likes how Zayn’s smile goes fierce and wild, likes how no matter who wins they end up pinned together.

“What, you regret anything?” Louis might hit him if he does, because this has been the best summer of his life, running wild through the camp, like rules can’t hold them back, not when they’re together, not when they’re Louis-and-Zayn.

“No.”

But he’s saying it in that way he has, like he does sometimes at night when the homesickness gets too much and Louis will scoot close and hug him tight, and he doesn’t feel selfish about it at all because it helps Zayn too.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Zayn shakes his head, but it’s not a refusal to tell. They don’t have secrets. He doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to meet Zayn here, to meet someone who gets every corner of him, who fills up the parts of him he didn’t know needed filling, who can balance him in every way he has.

Well, they have one secret. But Louis’s not going to be stupid enough to say that.

“It’s just…” Zayn trails off again. Louis waits. He’s not a patient person, but sometimes Zayn needs time to put his thoughts together before he talks, and Louis can wait for that.  “I’m sad it’s over, you know? Not for going home. But that we’ll…”

“Yeah.” Louis knows. Louis’s sort of dreading that, too. Dreading tomorrow when Zayn’s parents will pick him up and Louis’s mum will pick him up, and they’ll get in separate cars and go separate ways and he won’t have his Zayn there all the time. Louis rolls over onto his side so he can prop himself up, look down at Zayn’s face, sharp and beautiful in the moonlight. “Zap,” he says, pushing on Zayn’s tattoo. “We never have to leave.”

Zayn’s smile is small and rueful. “Zap,” he echoes, his hand pressing over Louis’s. “I don’t lose you.”

“You can’t.” Louis  can’t even really say how much he doesn’t think he can lose Zayn now, how it feels like they’re connected, bound together somehow. “Partners in crime, yeah? Can’t lose each other.”

“Yeah.” Zayn’s face twists though, like he doesn’t really believe Louis. “I’m shit at keeping up with people, though.”

“Me too. We’ll figure it out. We don’t live that far away.” Louis will make it work, he will. He’s never met a problem he can’t figure out a way around. He flops back down. Because he’s feeling grave, he inches his hand over so it brushes against Zayn’s, then, when Zayn doesn’t say anything, rests it on top of Zayn’s. It’s Zayn who flips his hand over, who intertwines their fingers. “You won’t get rid of me. Not even when you want to.”

“I won’t,” Zayn promises, squeezing his hand. “Never.”

Louis lets that fill him up. Zap, he thinks, I can kiss you, right now, under the moonlight. Zap, this moment lasts forever.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Prompt:** **'bffs when they were little but one moved away and they run into each other again'** _

Zayn almost doesn’t recognize him. It’s been ten years, after all; ten years and puberty which has been quite good for him. So no, at Zayn doesn’t recognize the boy who misses the last of the peanut butter M&Ms by a hair at the bodega, because he doesn’t actually spend every waking moment thinking about his childhood best friend, but he does notice the sudden, fierce cursing that comes his way.

“And to you,” he shoots back. It’s not his fault he has a paper due at 6 AM tomorrow and needs sustenance. He might just go insane if he doesn’t have chocolate, right now.

“Fuck off,” the guy swears again, low and fervent, probably sharper than chocolate should warrant, no matter how important chocolate is. Zayn thinks longingly of the nest he’s made in his room upstairs, blankets piled on his couch with just enough room for his laptop, and sighs.

“Fine.” He holds out the M&Ms. He almost has to close his eyes as he watches them go away, certainly can’t look at the guy he’s sacrificing them to. Someday, he’ll learn how to not fall for people in need.

There’s a pause, then, “Now I don’t want them,” the guy says, snidely. “I don’t need your pity M&Ms.”

“Oh come off it.” Zayn does look now, annoyed and a little amused despite himself. The guy is a bit shorter than him, in sweatpants, a loose t-shirt, and a beanie that make it look like he just rolled out of bed—which is unsurprising at midnight—with a sharp-boned face. There’s something almost familiar about him, about how he’s not large but he fills up space. “Take the fucking M&Ms.”

“No,” he snaps back, and Zayn huffs out a breath.

“Fine then,” Zayn snatches his hand back. “I’ll take them.”

“Good.” The guy turns, so he can properly face Zayn. “You always did like your chocolate.”

“Do I—” His breath catches. He’s changed. Of course. Puberty does that. But he’s still got those bright blue eyes and that wicked smile and that stubborn set of his chin, same as when they were five and daring each other to touch a snake. “Louis? Louis Tomlinson”

“You really didn’t recognize me, did you?” Louis crosses his arms and glare, but his eyes are dancing, and Zayn had never thought to see him again and it’s taking all the breath out of his lungs. “I’m hurt, Zayn. Hurt.”

“You knew it was me?”

“Haven’t changed that much, Malik.” And maybe Zayn hasn’t forgotten much, because the instant Zayn opens his arms he’s in them, throwing his arms around Zayn and hugging him as tight as Zayn’s tugging back, like he hadn’t left ten years ago and made Zayn’s while childhood a little bleaker.

They hang on for a second, squeezing like it’s a competition, then as one they let go, though Louis keeps a hand on Zayn’s wrist. Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever smiled this big.

“Even if fuck, Zayn. You got hot,” Louis keeps talking, as if he hadn’t stopped. “This chocolate is not going to your hips at all, is it?” He’s walking to the cash register, Zayn a pace behind him like always. “You’re paying for the M&Ms, though.”

“Fuck off I’m not, you’re the one who made a deal about them.”

“Are too.”

“Not.”

“Are too!”

And really, Zayn figures, as Louis finally caves and pulls a crumpled dollar bill out of his pocket to set on the register, it’s like nothing’s changed at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

_**Prompt:** **Bus 1 ritual where Zouis are lighting up and Louis drops the blunt.** _

“Zayn, no, that’s fucking stupid, it’s freezing out—”

“I don’t make the rules. Shirtless lap, or settle for the seven years sobriety.”

“Fuck you,” Louis snaps, but he strips off his shirt. Some things aren’t worth risking, even if Zayn’s laughing his ass off at him.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Because there was much zouis and reading Zayn on my dash.** _

Zayn is reading.

Louis doesn’t get it. Not that he doesn’t get how to read, he’s not an idiot, thank you very much all his teachers for most of grade school, but he doesn’t get—this. How Zayn can just curl up on the chair in the corner of the bus, where the light streams through the windows, and just—read. For hours. Louis’s been watching him for what feels like hours, at least (looking at his watch, it’s been about two minutes, but he stands by the hours), just Zayn looking all soft and warm and cozy in his sweatpants and vest with his hair loose around his face and the sunlight caught in his eyelashes as he turns a page.

It’s not even a fun book. Like, Louis could understand it, if it was comics, or even something exciting. He likes comics. Like the bold color of them and the excitement and the way they’re basically movies. He and Zayn have spent long hours together flipping through comics before, sometimes with Liam, sometimes without (Louis doesn’t like to acknowledge that Zayn and Liam also look at comics together. He’s gotten good at ignoring things like that). But the book Zayn has propped against his knees is proper thick, and the name on the cover was probably Russian, Louis thinks.

Harry might know, because Harry likes to pretend he’s read those sorts of things, but Louis was lost when Zayn had flashed the cover of the book at him a week ago and said, “Don’t know how I missed it, yeah?” Louis had nodded, then, because he didn’t like to not know things, and he didn’t like Zayn to know he didn’t know things Zayn thought he knew, and also he basically trusted Zayn’s opinions on all things literary anyway so if Zayn says he should have read it before, he probably should have.

Louis shifts on his feet, so he’s leaning better against the doorframe into the common area. He could go in, he knows. Zayn wouldn’t be annoyed or anything. He could go in and lie on the couch and Zayn might not even notice, or he could cuddle up next to Zayn and put in his headphones and Zayn would just wrap an arm around him and keep reading for a while, until Louis knew he would get bored and start poking at him, or he could go over and pull Zayn up into—something. Into video games or a movie or a prank or a game of footie if he was very convincing, which he can be.

He could do any of that, and Zayn would just put his book down and smile, maybe quick and sharp like his grin gets when they successfully pull something off, or maybe the soft gentle one he gets sometimes when he looks at Louis. At all of them really, when Liam says something sweet or Harry makes a ridiculous joke or Niall exists, but Louis likes to think he gets it most often. Wants to think that, anyway, and Louis is very good at convincing himself too, except for how he isn’t really.

He could do that. But then Zayn would move. Would stretch himself out and put Zayn Malik back on, even the little bit he does for them. His edges would sharpen, his eyes go less dreamy. It’s not that Louis doesn’t like that Zayn, the Zayn that can run wild with him or hold him still when he needs it, who will go toe to toe with him and somehow manage to beat Louis most of the time, only one who can, because he loves that Zayn. But he also knows Zayn. And Zayn needs his quiet. Needs his thick books and soft clothes and little island of sunlight where Louis can’t follow.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it. Louis can’t follow him there. Can’t follow him into whatever book he’s reading, for all he almost wants to. He’s tried, before; stolen a book Zayn was working through off his bunk when he was out with Niall and sat down determined to get through it so he could awe Zayn with his knowledge. He got twenty pages in before he gave up, bored. He never told Zayn that, never told anyone. He doesn’t want to admit he’s failed, he thinks, because the truth is he doesn’t want to admit he couldn’t go where Zayn is if he wanted to.

They’re supposed to be partners in crime, aren’t they? Partners. Together. Always. Side by side, hand in hand, whatever. Not—going places alone, even if that place is only inside a too-pretty head. Zayn’s not supposed to leave Louis behind. Ever.

Louis makes a motion to go over there, to jump on Zayn and knock the book aside and wrestle him to the floor and make him laugh until his sides hurt, just because he can. But then he stops himself, indecisive. Zayn just looks so content, so happy with just his book and the sun.

“Hey, Lou,” The noise startles Louis enough that he nearly bashes his head on the doorframe. Harry’s behind him, yawning from the nap he just woke from. “Let me through, I wanna watch TV.”

Louis takes a final look behind him before he grabs at Harry’s wrist, yanking him back the way he came. “We’ll watch in my bunk,” he announces. Zayn might be alone, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still partners. “Zayn’s reading.”


	6. Chapter 6

_**Prompt: "Would you shoot your best friend in the leg for 10 million dollars?"** _

“Yes.” 

“Well that was fast,” Louis complains, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back. Leans back into Zayn’s chest, because they’re sharing the chair, but still. He thinks his point is made. “Eager to shoot me, mate?”

“How come you assume it’s you?” Liam objects. “I could be Zayn’s best mate.”

“Would you like to get shot?” Louis snaps back. It’s him. He knows its him, even if technically Liam’s known Zayn longer. Liam’s not the one sharing a chair with Zayn right now, is he? Who’s hearing Zayn’s laughter in his ear and has his hand resting on his hip. 

“I don’t know if you can be best friends if you’re also fucking,” Harry muses, staring at his beer. “Feel like it’s in a different category, then.” 

Louis chokes. “We aren’t!” he protests. He strongly considers moving farther away from Zayn, too. Very strongly. 

“You do know your boyfriend can’t keep a secret to save his life, right?” Niall asks, and Louis twists so he can look at Zayn. Zayn’s nibbling on his lip, his eyes cast down sheepishly. 

“Zayn!” It’s really very hard to stay mad at Zayn, Louis’s found. It’s a problem. “Really, you told them?” 

“It slipped out?” Zayn shrugs, then glances up at Louis. His eyes are big and round, like they take up half his face, and cheeks are hollowed just enough to be distracting. It’s really a problem. “Sorry.” 

Louis sighs. “It’s okay.” He never imagined it would stay a secret forever, and he kind of likes it, anyway. That Zayn never debated Niall calling him Louis’s boyfriend. He can live with that. “If you agree I’m your best friend you were talking about.” 

“‘Course, babe,” Zayn laughs, and Louis rolls his eyes. “You are absolutely the first person I want to shoot in the leg.” 

“Me too!” Liam agrees loudly. Louis really would argue, fight back, but Zayn’s comfortable and Zayn’s his boyfriend and his best friend both, and it’s…nice. 

“Okay then. What are we doing with the 10 million dollars?” he asks, and feels Zayn’s thoughtful exhale against his back.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Prompt: "I'm just scared I might have ruined this, our friendship. I really don't know what I'd do without you."_**  

Zayn’s just looking at him, with those big eyes that say everything he’s ever feeling in them, and Louis almost has to look away. Except it’s also Zayn, lying naked next to him on the bed, all golden skin and ink and his whole body still loose from what Louis thinks he can safely judge as some pretty excellent sex, so Louis really doesn’t want to look away. 

“’course not,” he answers immediately, because Zayn’s being a sensitive idiot in that way he gets when he’s been painting too long. “You can’t get rid of me with a little thing like sex.” 

Zayn smiles at that. Louis knows what his lips taste like, now. Louis knows how he kisses, from more than just seeing him with other people. He could kiss him, if he wanted to. There’s a part of Louis that wants to scream that to the world, that he can kiss Zayn Malik and they can’t. 

Or…Louis swallows, but he needs to say this, and he needs to be careful, even if he never has been before. Never needed to. “But, Zee. If you want to do this–I can’t just fuck around. You mean too much to me for that.” 

Zayn tilts his head, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I can’t just be a bloody helping hand,” Louis snaps. He hates this, even with Zayn. Hates having to say these things. 

“Think there was more than a hand involved.” 

“Fuck off.” Louis flips him off lazily. Zayn’s smiling again. Louis wishes he didn’t want to kiss him so much right now. “I’m serious. I’m not good at whatever the fuck, friends with benefits or whatever. And I don’t want to ruin us either, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without you. So.” He tries to glare. This is really ruining the afterglow. 

“So,” Zayn agrees, and Louis’s half a second away from rolling out of the bed once and for all, to just forget this happened and try to go back to not knowing what Zayn’s lips taste like and not dragging him away from anyone else who wants him, when Zayn’s ankle hooks over his, under the blankets. 

When he glances back at Zayn, he’s grinning, half exasperated and half amused. Louis glares more. This isn’t funny. Not when it’s happening to him. “Why d’you think I just want to fuck around?” Zayn asks, and Louis never wants to look away from him when he’s looking at Louis like that. “You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t fuck around with that.” 

“You better not,” Louis warns, and grabs at Zayn’s wrist, to bring him closer so he can kiss him. “You better fucking not.” 


	8. Chapter 8

_**Prompt: "I just can't take it anymore, it's all getting too much..."** _

“Well, that’s what you get for taking five million courses and working,” Louis replies, but he settles down next to Zayn anyway, so Zayn can lean on him as they watch the cars roll by beneath the tiny thing they get to call a balcony. “Really, it’s your own fault.”

“Fuck off.”

“Never.” Louis’s arm wraps around his shoulder, and Zayn falls into it easily, lets himself settle into Louis’s familiar embrace, where he’s never expected to be anything other than he is, where Louis can hold him up and never ask for anything in return.

“You are spreading yourself a little thin,” Louis says eventually, like he knows when Zayn’s up for talking again.

Zayn sighs. “I know, but—I have to work, and if I take all the courses I could graduate early.”

“I know.” Louis hums. No one ever believes Zayn when he claims Louis’s comforting, if you need it. But Louis might not show his soft side to just anyone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there, ready to just hold Zayn if he needs it. “But is it worth graduating early if you’re burning yourself out?”

“Not burned out, just tired.”

“Whatever you say, love.” Zayn doesn’t think about how that casual endearment makes something warm start in his stomach. It’s new, that he’s feeling that around his best friend, and he really is too tired to deal with that, on top of everything else. “But you know I’m here for you, right?”

“”course.” That’s never been a question.

“Good. I would have been pissed if you didn’t,” Louis warns, and Zayn snorts out a laugh.

“Couldn’t have that.”

“Couldn’t have you doubting me,” Louis agrees, fierce. “Whatever you need.”

“Just need you here, right now.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Louis turns his head, and Zayn thinks he feels the feather light brush of his lips against Zayn’s hair. But that’s not something he can think about now, with everything else, and it’s fine like it is, with Louis holding him up until he can handle the world again. The other thing can wait. Louis’ll always be there.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Prompt: "He had the nerve to ask me if I would come to his wedding, why would I want to watch him get married to someone else?"** _

“Well, did you ever actually tell him why that’s not something you would want?” Harry asks. Louis whirls on his heels and glares, hard. 

“Yes,” he snaps. Harry, because he’s annoying like that, just gives him the steady look he does when he thinks you’re wrong. “Never in so many words,” Louis admits, “But, I mean. It’s Zayn. We can basically read each others’ minds. He must know." 

"You know, I always thought that if you just told him, he’d have stopped the wedding,” Harry muses, looking at his fingernails. “Maybe he still would. I’ve always thought he’s been in love with you since you met.” 

“Don’t joke about that.” If Louis could set people on fire with just his mind, Harry would be in flames. Of course, so would a lot of people, including Zayn, his fiancee, and everyone who ever decided marriage as an institution was a good idea. 

“I’m not joking.” Harry fixes Louis with his most level stare. “The wedding’s only just been announced. It’s not like it’s the day before or anything. There’s time.” 

“Yeah.” Louis looks down at his hands, at his bare arms, at the BUS 1 inked to it. “You really think so?” 

“I think if you don’t, you’ll regret it.” Harry shrugs again. “And if you do, you might get the wedding after all.” 

“I don’t want a wedding.” Well, not really, at least. 

“No, you just want Zayn.” Harry leans forward, intent. “So go fight for him.” 


	10. Chapter 10

_**Prompt: "Since we have Bus 1 to ourselves, let's put it to use."** _

“Yeah sure.” Louis’s excited for a minute, because he didn’t think it’d be that easy—Zayn sometimes gets sensitive about things like the bus driver being there, and how he’s not sure bandmates being involved is a good idea—but then Zayn’s leaning over to grab his bag, and he huffs out an irritated breath. “I got some good—”

“Not like that, asshole.” Louis manages to half tackle, half fall on Zayn in a move that might be clumsy enough to be worthy of Harry but he’s calling totally on purpose because he ends up on top of Zayn anyway, straddling his lap with Zayn grinning up at him, that mischievous light in his eyes that means he was going it on purpose the little shit. Louis’s so proud of him he could burst, sometimes. 

“What, you mean you don’t want to smoke?” 

“Shut up,” Louis snaps, and proceeds to make sure Zayn does.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Prompt: "come play video games with meeeee."** _

“If I do, will you shut up,” Zayn moans, flopping over in bed. That’s frankly unacceptable, and if it was anyone else Louis would probably yank the covers off of them, or throw water on their face, but it’s Zayn. Zayn would probably get even, and anyway, Louis’s never really felt the urge to do any of that to Zayn. If anything, he feels the opposite, wants to get into bed with him and curl up next to him, because it feels so comfortable. It’s very confusing all around, and Louis’s mainly dealing with it by ignoring it. 

“Probably not,” Louis admits, and shakes gently at Zayn’s shoulder. “Come on, if you sleep now you’ll never get to bed later.”

“Want to bet, mum?” Zayn drawls, but he rolls back over onto his front, blinks his eyes open. When he sees Louis these, he smiles, like it’s a pleasant surprise, even though he knew who he was talking to. The warmth that starts in Louis’s belly is another one of those things he’s ignoring. “Morning.” 

“It’s four in the afternoon, it’s not morning.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Now come entertain me.”

“You’re so demanding, I don’t know why I like you.” Zayn yawns, stretches so the blankets fall down to his waist and his shirt rides up, and if Louis glances at the strip of skin revealed, well, he is a champion ignorer. 

“Because I keep things interesting for you. And if I weren’t here you’d have no one to play proper pranks with.” Louis closes his hands into fists over the urge to trace the soft, flushed skin of Zayn’s cheeks. It’s just because Zayn’s so unfairly attractive, he thinks. Not that he’s thinking about it, because that would mean he’s not ignoring it. But it’s tough, having a best mate who’s not only the person who gets you best in all the world but also is gorgeous and looks like home feels, sometimes. “Now, I’m going to go play video games, and you better be out there in five minutes or I’ll resort to drastic measures.” 

“No you won’t!” Zayn calls after him, but Louis ducks out of the bunks. To start thinking about drastic measures, and not about how pliant Zayn had looked, like if he’d kissed him then he’d have just smiled that soft, welcoming smile and kissed him back, because Louis was ignoring the fact that he wanted to kiss Zayn too. 

He’s getting worse and worse at ignoring things, lately.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Prompt: "C'mon bro, I love you."** _

“Okay, but that’s not going to convince me!” Zayn tries to tug his hand out of Louis’s grip, but Louis doesn’t let him go. He needs Zayn with him. In the general scheme of things, but also because he’s skinnier and is better at squeezing through things. 

“Would I ever steer you wrong?” Louis retorts, pulling him along. Behind him, Zayn snorts. 

“Definitely.” 

It’s—like, Louis knows he’s joking, but still. He stops, so Zayn runs into him, then catches his forearms so he can’t move away. So they’re so close, and Louis’s been trying not to think about why he wants to be this close to Zayn for a while, actually, so maybe this was a bad idea, but still… 

“Would I ever steer _you_ wrong?” he asks again, and forces himself to meet Zayn’s eyes when he asks. It’s the closest he’s ever come to articulating the feeling he gets around Zayn sometimes, like he wants him near him always. That Zayn’s special in ways he can’t quite say, yet. 

Zayn looks into his eyes long and deep, like he’s reading something there, but then he’s shaking his head. “No,” he admits, “No, you wouldn’t. Okay, come on.” 

Then he’s the one pulling Louis along, their fingers intertwined, and there’s that feeling again.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Prompt: Zouis and the monkey** _

“You can’t actually keep the monkey, boys.”

Zayn and Louis both look up at Liam with identical horrified, affronted expressions on. Louis pulls the money onto his lap, and Zayn huddles closer to them, so they look like one three headed one third money animal.

“We can try,” Louis protests, and Zayn nods firmly. Sometimes Liam wishes he had been put in a band with normal people.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Prompt: saying goodbye?** _

“I’m not going to miss you.”

“Okay, Lou.” Zayn grins, and buries his face in Louis’s neck, and doesn’t comment on how Louis breathes in like he’s memorizing Zayn’s scent, or on how it’s Louis who’s not letting go. “I won’t miss you either.”


	15. Chapter 15

_**Prompt: "We're still good, right? Still partners in crime?"** _

“I don’t know.” Louis glances around the wreckage of the city block, at the aliens strewn across the pavement. At Zayn, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, fire still sparking at his fingertips as he tries to rein it back in. “You just saved the city.” 

“Yeah, well. I helped.” Zayn shrugs, nods to where the superheroes are standing. One of them’s talking to the press, the big burly one; the other two are bouncing around helping people out of the wreckage. Probably helping little old ladies across the street, too, Louis thinks, probably more bitterly than he should, given they just saved the world from an alien attack. But they co-opted his partner to do it, so maybe he’s allowed to be bitter. “But it wasn’t all for the city, you know?” 

He tilts his head, his eyes big and deep beneath his mask, and Louis knows. Louis can read it all in his look. He can’t blame him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Zayn had been the one who’d gotten taken by the aliens, but he’s pretty sure he’d have torn the world apart. Working with superheroes seems an easy step, from there. “But you like them?”

Zayn shrugs. “They’re pretty chill, yeah? And their tower’s sick.” 

“You let you in the tower? What kind of superheroes are they, just letting a villain in?”

“They decided they needed my help, or summat.” Zayn’s lips twitch, though. “Not very organized. But they’ve got a sick set up.” He bites his lip, then glances at Louis, quick through his eyelashes. “You’d like it.” 

Louis sighs, looks over at the heroes again. They’ve gathered for the press now, and there are cameras flashing as they strike poses. It’s ridiculous. Even if Zayn’s usually a good judge of character, it’s ridiculous. “This is what you want?” 

“I…” Zayn trails off, shakes his head. “Like, we’ve never been very good villains, really. And we can get the money some other way. I just…helping people was, like, pretty nice. Felt right.” 

Louis nods, slowly. The blonde hero’s looking over at them; when he sees Louis watching, he waves enthusiastically. 

“Don’t think we can be partners in crime anymore,” Louis says. Zayn’s face falls. 

“Yeah, I understand, ‘course, if you don’t want–I can get my shit–”

“It’s not crime if we’re heroes, right?” Louis goes on, and watches Zayn’s face split into a blinding grin. Yeah. Louis’ll give up villainy for that grin, for the way Zayn wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, like he’s afraid he’ll slip away again if he lets go. 

And anyway, Louis thinks, watching over Zayn’s shoulder as the tall, lanky hero with the curly hair nearly falls over, these heroes look like they could use all the help they could get. It’s the least Louis can do, for keeping Zayn safe for him. 


	16. Chapter 16

_**Prompt: "high love you"** _

Louis rolls his eyes at his phone. _Are you high, or do you love me?_  he texts back. He’s putting his phone into his pocket, because no one actually expects Zayn to respond to a text promptly, let alone at all, when his phone buzzes again. He’s still expecting it to be his mum or something when he looks at the screen and sees it read ZAYN. 

_both_ , Zayn’s said. Louis snorts, smiling despite himself as he watches the dots that mean Zayn’s typing. 

“Whassat?” Niall asks, from across the bus. 

“Nothing.” It’s not lying, it’s just…Louis doesn’t get his times with Zayn on Bus 1 anymore, when it was just the two of them and he could settle into his skin with Zayn holding him there, so he figures he can keep this to himself. It’s not like they aren’t all texting Zayn at some point. And they try to facetime him as a group regularly. So he can keep this bit to himself, this bit which has always been his. 

_so blazed and I love you_ , is the brilliance Zayn’s come up with. _can’t wait for you to be back aha_

“I’ll be right back,” Louis tells the room, and slips back towards the bunks. He doesn’t bother texting back, just hits the call button and holds the phone up to his ear as he settles onto his bunk, bringing his knees up to his chest. 

The call’s nearly rung out by the time Zayn answers. “Hey, bro,” he says, his vowels long and lazy like they get when he’s really high, past the point where he’s talkative about everything. Louis smiles. He knows exactly what Zayn’s doing without asking, how he’s probably stretched out on his couch, the TV on in the background. “’sup?” 

“Good to see you’re taking your retirement well,” Louis retorts. Zayn giggles. 

“This is a normal twenty two year old thing to do, yeah? Get blazed in the middle of the day. Get off!” 

“If you don’t–”

“Nah, Hatchi’s trying to get on me.” There’s the faint sounds of a scuffle. Louis’s sure Hatchi’ll end up on Zayn’s chest, where Zayn can pet him properly, because Zayn’s a softie at heart. “Glad you called. Miss you.”

“You too.” Louis mutters it, too fast, like he always does. He doesn’t like to admit it, maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t want to admit that it’s not the piercing wound it was a few months ago, that it’s settled into a manageable sort of ache. It feels like a betrayal, that it doesn’t take him out at the knees every time he sees one of the new promo pictures. “Save some for me? No one’s shit’s as good as yours.” 

“’course.” Zayn sighs, long and content. Louis just wants to be there, sprawled next to Zayn, so they can giggle about nothing at all, so the ache’ll finally go away once and for all. “Could send you some, maybe.” 

“Pretty sure there are laws against that.” 

“I’ll smuggle it, put it in dolls or summat. Maybe in carrots.” 

“Fuck off,” Louis retorts, but he’s laughing too, and it feels good, just to laugh with Zayn, even if he’s far away. 

It’s only when the laughter clears that Louis rests his head on his forehead. “You okay?” he asks, quiet. Like this is the secret he’s keeping from the rest of the band, like Zayn’s something that’s just his. 

“I’m great,” Zayn tells him. He’s still giggling, but Louis can’t laugh with him, not when Zayn’s floating away and Louis’s still stuck here. “’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah.” Louis tightens his fingers around his calves, digging them in. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Louis whispers, keeping those words close, like they’ll fly just between him and Zayn, like it’s just him and Zayn together again. 


	17. Chapter 17

_**Prompt: "That's so gay let's do it!"** _

“Don’t be–you don’t have to do this.” Zayn sighs. He should have known this was how Louis’d react to Zayn coming out to him, with full overblown support and insisting that he help Zayn into this new sexuality, despite his own sexuality. “We don’t have to go to the club.”

“Zayn. Do you want to take advantage of your new openness or not?” Louis fixes him with a glare from where he’s leaning against the wall, watching as Zayn primps in the mirror. He’s already dressed, looking sharply casual in his t-shirt and jeans that hug his ass. 

“You don’t have to go,” Zayn corrects himself. “I can go on my own.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “You won’t, though. I know you, better than anyone, and you’ll chicken out last second.” Then he sighs, and Zayn can see him soften, his prickly side falling away as he walks over to Zayn, grabs his shoulders. “And anyway, I need to make sure you’re all right, don’t I?” he mutters. Zayn holds back his smile, because he does, just like Zayn always needs to make sure Louis’s all right. “Not going off with a loser or something.” 

“Sure, don’t want my first gay pull to be a dud,” Zayn agrees, laughing. “You can scare all the lads I don’t want away, play at being my boyfriend.” 

For a second, Louis doesn’t laugh, just looks at Zayn, and Zayn’s worried like he never is with Louis, that he overplayed his hand, that Louis won’t want to go that far. 

But then, “Of course, honeybuns!” Louis retorts, and Zayn shoves him away so he can finish his hair. Even if he doesn’t pull, Louis’ll be there. That’s what matters. 


	18. Chapter 18

**_little bit of a model/footballer Zouis au:_ **

“I don’t see why I have to go.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn’s whining had been a lot more convincing in his flat, in his sweatpants, than here on the street, bumping shoulders with Louis as they walk. Still, Zayn’s doing him a favor, so for the thousandth time, Louis nudges his hip. “Because I need to go to this dinner to get my award, and I need a pretty face to accompany me.”

It’s Zayn’s turn to roll his eyes now, as they turn the corner. They probably should have taken the car the team had offered, but Louis likes the walk. Likes this time with Zayn, their hands brushing. And maybe he likes how people give them sidelong looks sometimes, maybe guessing where they recognize Louis or Zayn from, maybe just admiring. There’s a lot to admire. Louis’s looking pretty nice in his suit, if he does say so himself, and Zayn’s Zayn. In his dark suit with the flaring jacket that should look ridiculous, even if Louis knows it’s right off the runway, but it’s Zayn.

“You could have gotten Harry.”

“I would have, but he was busy.” Zayn makes a face, and Louis smirks. “You had to do, then.”

“If I’m so unacceptable I’ll go back and get a proper night’s sleep like I’m supposed to.”

“Shut up.” Louis goes for his hair, but Zayn dodges. Zayn always dodges, and he shouldn’t be able to—Louis’s the professional athlete—but he can never catch Zayn. In his more morose moments, it feels like a metaphor. Louis tries not to have morose moments. “You know you’re the best eye candy I can have.”

Zayn snorts. “Thanks, really.”

Fuck. “You know what I mean,” Louis mutters. Zayn’s the only one who ever makes him feel like this, like he’s saying the wrong things.

“I do.” They dodge another group of people on the sidewalk, the drift back together. “And, like. You know I’m happy to come.”

“I’d rather have you than Harry,” Louis admits, quiet. It’s not that he doesn’t love Harry, because he does, and strictly speaking Harry is better eye candy. He loves parties like this, the awards dinners with some of the biggest names in football, where he can charm people and see what they’re wearing and doing. But Louis would rather have Zayn there, because Zayn’s the one who can calm the nerves that have started in Louis’s stomach, at the prospect of the award.

“Thanks, babe.” They turn a corner, then Zayn pauses. “Um. Can we go down another block?”

“Why? This way’s faster.  I know you want to delay, but—”

“No, that’s fine, just, let’s go the other way, come on, Lou, it’s the same way.”

“Now I need to go this way. Do you have a prejudice against this block?” Louis demands. He grabs Zayn’s wrist to drag him along. It’s—they touch all the time, have been tactile with each other since Harry introduced them years ago, but Louis still can’t stop thinking about how Zayn’s wrist feels under his palm, the fine bones of it.

Or at least, he’s thinking about it until they come onto the next intersection and the billboard reaches huge across the building, Louis doesn’t know how high, and Louis skids to a halt as he looks at it.

“Zayn.”

“This is why I didn’t want to come,” Zayn mutters, and turns to bury his head in Louis’s shoulder.

Louis puts his arm around him absently as he looks up. He’s used to seeing Zayn in things, more and more now that he’s getting traction, in magazine spreads and pictures his teammates hand him with a “isn’t that your mate?”, looking more handsome than Louis wants to think about for long, but this is different. This is more, Zayn’s face on a billboard in a crowded intersection, his jeans hanging off his hips so a taunting strip of skin shows between that and the soft sweater he’s apparently modeling. He’s not doing the stare he usually does in pictures, the blue steel Louis likes to make fun of him for because that’s one of two reactions he could have for it. Instead, he’s got his head ducked a little, his arm raised to rub at the back of his neck, and he’s looking out of the pictures from eyes shaded by his eyelashes, looking soft and touchable and like everything someone might want.

Louis swallows. He knows that look, or ones like it but better, because it’s almost the one Zayn gives him when they’re lounging on the couch together and Louis brings him tea, or the time Louis had shown up at his photoshoot when Zayn hadn’t expected it, or when Zayn had surprised Louis at a game, after his delighted grin had faded. Louis doesn’t know how to feel about the billboard, though. He wants to imprint it on his eyelids, wants to run his hand over the skin at his stomach, to press his lips to bone revealed by the loose collar of his shirt. He wants to tear it down so no one ever sees Zayn looking like that, because that vulnerability is Louis’s, or he wants it to be.

Instead, he looks away, back down at the dark hair at his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me!” he says, squeezing Zayn’s hip. “You’ve got a billboard this big? You should have said!”

“It’s so commercial,” Zayn demurs. “And like. Everywhere.”

“It’s gonna get you great exposure. And no other date at this thing is going to have a billboard the size of a building.”

That gets Zayn to lift his head. It’s not quite the expression on the billboard, asking to be saved, because Louis knows perfectly well Zayn doesn’t need saving; it’s more like the guarded but not unfriendly look he’d given Louis the first time Harry had introduced them, right before he’d gone along with Louis’s teasing of Harry and Louis’d realized how much trouble he was in.

“Date?” he asks.

Fucking shit hell. Zayn and his fucking way of knocking all words out of Louis’s head. “Um. I mean.” He hadn’t meant. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, was supposed to just be a favor from a mate because Louis was going to get one of the biggest awards he’d ever gotten and he’d just played a killer season and he wanted Zayn there with him. Because he wants Zayn there, like he wants Zayn in the stands when he plays, beaming at him after a win, there to rage at after a loss. He wants the same thing he’s wanted since they met, except Zayn had had a girlfriend then, and by the time that was over they’d been—this, and Louis wasn’t sure if it was too late.

But Zayn’s looking at him, and Louis has the feeling right before he goes for the goal, where he knows that he can’t think, just has to go for it. “If you want,” he tells Zayn, and doesn’t let himself look away. “It could be.”

Zayn blinks, and Louis watches his eyelashes feather over his cheeks, the same eyes a hundred times bigger up on the building. Louis just raises an eyebrow, waiting. Daring Zayn to say yes. To do this thing they’ve been dancing around for ages, since they met. Since Zayn showed up at Louis’s game with Harry, then listened to Louis rant about the ref afterwards even though he doesn’t care about football at all.

Then Zayn starts to smile, the smile that isn’t anywhere in pictures or magazines or anywhere, huge and bright and his tongue tucked behind his teeth, the one that makes him so much more beautiful than any camera could ever capture. “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Yeah, I’d, like. I’d like that.”

“Good.” Louis knows he’s grinning too, probably sappily, but fuck it, who cares. “Now come on, I’ve got an award to receive.”

“You’re the one who stopped,” Zayn retorts, but he stops leaning on Louis enough that they can keep walking. He’s still smiling, Louis notices, mainly because he can’t quite stop looking at Zayn either.

They’re at the corner when their hands brush again. But instead of just letting it go, Zayn turns his palm, lets their hands slip together. Louis might be getting an award later, where his teammates and everyone will be cheering just for him—but this feels as good as any winning goal he’s ever made.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Prompt:** _ **_things you said after you kissed me_ **

“So, are you going to do it tonight?” 

Louis shoots Niall a glare. Niall just toasts him with his egg nog. His cheeks are flushed, and with his green sweater on, he looks like some sort of debauched elf. Of course he’s having a good time, Louis thinks, just this side of bitter. It’s not that he doesn’t like Christmas, because he does–it’s his birthday and good cheer all rolled up into one, what’s not to like–but Niall is the last of the boys to ask him that. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis says, like he’d said to Harry and Liam. He glances around the party, checking–but no one’s close to them, in this corner where Louis’d set up camp after Liam had made one too many pointed comments. It’s almost his birthday, can’t everyone just chill? 

“I mean, are you going to finally make a move and declare your undying love?” Niall repeats, all patience. Louis scoffs, but he looks on instinct. Zayn’s standing by the drinks, in tight dark jeans and an oversized sweater that looks both cheerful and comfortable and so fucking good. He’s grinning, at something the girl he’s talking to said, and his hands wave as he talks, and Louis knows he gives himself away because Niall snorts. “You better hurry up, you know.” 

That gets Louis’s attention. “What does that mean?” he demands. If Zayn had said something–but he’d tell Louis first. He’d tell Louis if he was into someone, if he was going to ask them out, any of that stuff. He always tells Louis first. He might not have told Louis anything for a while, but he’d still tell him. 

“Nothing.” Niall hums, looking altogether too smug for someone with reindeer on their chest. “Just, it’s Christmas, isn’t it? And we’re all going home soon. Maybe his mum’ll set him up with someone, he said she likes to do that. Or maybe he’ll just meet someone–it’s Christmas, it’s romantic, haven’t you seen Love Actually?” 

“Shut up,” Louis mutters. 

“And then we won’t see each other ‘til after new year’s,” Niall goes on, unperturbed by Louis’s glare. “And you know what happens on New Year’s. He’ll find someone to kiss, and I hear he’s a great kisser, so they won’t let him get away, and–”

“Fuck off,” Louis repeats, and finishes off his eggnog. He knows what Niall’s trying to do, and it’s working. Just thinking about Zayn kissing someone else makes him want to throw something, or hit Zayn, or something. Thinking about Zayn turning that sweet, open smile that is just Louis’s on someone else. Thinking about someone else getting to see him when he’s just stumbled out of bed, all messy and soft and touchable. Louis might have only figured out in the past month or so why he hates the thought of that so much, but now that he knows, he can’t think about anything else. No one else gets those things. They’re Louis’s. 

“And it’s your birthday,” Niall goes on, because he’s a devil, not an elf, “And Christmas. Or, basically. He can’t say no to you. Not now. It’s against the rules or something.” 

“Because I really want Zayn to go out with me because of the rules,” Louis mutters. He knows he’s made a mistake when Niall grins, all stupidly smug. 

“So you admit you want Zayn to go out with you!” He pulls out his phone. “I’ve got to tell Haz, he said you wouldn’t admit it ever, you should–”

“Shut up.” That’s it. Louis sets down his glass, and fixes one last glare at Niall. “This isn’t because of you,” he tells him, and Niall gives him a knowing look. 

But it’s not because of Niall, Louis knows. Not because of Niall or Liam or Harry, or anyone else who’s been nagging. It’s because he wants Zayn to kiss him at midnight on New Year’s Eve, because he wants to kiss Zayn when they’re curled together on the couch high as fuck, because Zayn’s standing alone at the table now checking his phone, and his hair’s pushed back in the headband that Louis wants to work out with his fingers, and he grins when he sees Louis coming towards him, like there’s nothing he wants more. 

“Hey, Lou,” he says with a smile. Louis’s smile. No one else’s. 

“Hey.” Louis takes a breath, but he’s going to do this. He just–he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, because Louis’s always been better at doing, anyway. 

So he steps forward, cups a hand around Zayn’s head, and pulls him close to kiss him. 

It’s a short kiss–not a peck, but nothing like Louis’d want, to kiss him for hours and hours until he knew Zayn inside out. Zayn freezes for a second, but then he relaxes into Louis, and Louis’d known they’d be amazing together but he hadn’t known just how much the press of Zayn’s lips against his would set him on fire, would make him want to grab Zayn and drag him into the nearest room, to never ever let him go. 

Zayn blinks when Louis lets go, his eyes clouded. Louis tries for bravado, for the smile he puts on whenever he’s nervous,  but he finds he can’t, with Zayn looking at him, with the taste of Zayn on his mouth. 

“Mistletoe?”

“What?” That’s not what Louis expected. 

“Is there mistletoe,” Zayn clarifies. His tongue is pink and distracting as he licks his lips. “’cause, like. You kissed me. So I figured. Mistletoe.” 

That…would have been a good idea, yes, in retrospect. To have that as a backup.This is why Louis needs Zayn, to give him good ideas like that. But there isn’t mistletoe, there’s just Zayn. 

“No.” Louis swallows, but doesn’t break eye contact. “No, that was because I wanted to.” 

“Oh.” Louis knows that silence of Zayn’s, the one he has when he’s processing things, because too much is happening, and Louis forces himself to wait. He wishes he had more eggnog. Or that they weren’t at a party, and he wasn’t horribly aware of at least three sets of eyes on them. But it’s Christmas, that has to count for something. Christmas spirit. All Louis wants for Christmas, and all. 

Then Zayn smiles, and it’s brilliant and big and just a little sharp and Louis loves him so much. “So,” he asks, his tongue tucked behind his teeth as his eyes sparkle with just a hint of mischief. “Would I need to find mistletoe for you to do it again, or…” 

“Mistletoe wouldn’t hurt, if you want to work for it,” Louis retorts, but then he’s kissing Zayn again. 


	20. Chapter 20

_**Prompt:** _ **_things you said when you thought i was asleep_ **

The baby’s crying. Maybe Louis is a decent father because he can sense it somehow, or maybe he’s just attuned to her, but he knows she’s crying. It’s the first time he’s slept in what feels like years–he’d told Brianna he could take her and he was going to do it right, not hire a nanny for when he was home–but it’s autopilot, by now. He gets up, and stumbles out of his room down the hall, towards his daughter’s crying. 

“Shush now,” comes a voice from the room, though, and Louis stops short, right before the door. He’d though–fuck, he’d half thought he was dreaming, that he’d just wanted Zayn there so badly that he’d dreamed he’d shown up. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if he never told anyone that. That sometimes he’d wake up on tour so sure he’d dreamed everything and Zayn had come back. 

But it’s Zayn’s voice, and Louis pinches himself, but he’s awake. Zayn’s voice, in his daughter’s nursery. His heart hurts. “Shush, jaan, we’ve got to be quiet now, okay?” Zayn mumbles, and Louis leans against the wall. He could go back to sleep, he could go help, but–it’s been so long since he’s heard Zayn’s voice. Even now, Zayn had hardly given him a quick hug before sending Louis to bed, and Louis had been too floored by his sudden appearance to fight. 

“Let’s go to sleep, yeah? Your daddy’s asleep, he needs some rest, because he  loves you a lot but you’re a lot of work.” Zayn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, and Louis knows he’s talking nonsense but he knows that tone, too–how he takes it with his family, his pets. How he uses it to talk to people he loves. Because he loves Louis’s daughter, even if he doesn’t know her, even if they’ve been so fucked up for the last year. And now she’s only sniffling, probably going back to sleep. Zayn’s always been good with babies. “And if you got to sleep and he could sleep through the night, it’d make tomorrow a lot easier for me. Could you do that? I’ll get you ice cream when you’re old enough to want it, if you do.” Zayn breathes out. “If I’m allowed to see you. I hope I am.” There’s a smile in his voice. “You’re a sweet one, aren’t you? Got a pair of lungs on you. You’re as loud as you dad.” 

It’s–it’s too much. Louis’s still tired and Zayn’s here and he’s being so lovely with Louis’s daughter, who Louis already loves more than life itself, and it’s–Zayn. Zayn came back. To him, at least. Came back to take some of the load off of Louis’s shoulders, like he always used to. 

Louis pushes off the wall, rounds the corner to go into the room. Zayn’s setting the baby in her crib, and as Louis watches he presses a kiss to her forehead before she settles down. Louis watches Zayn wtch her for a moment, then Zayn turns and sees him. 

“Did she wake you?” Zayn whispers. “Sorry.” 

Louis shakes his head, jerks it towards the door. Zayn gets it, always does, so he follows Louis out, closing the door most of the way behind him. 

Louis leans against the wall again. Zayn’s just watching him, his eyes dark and steady. Maybe it’s good, doing this now, with a sleeping baby next to them. They can’t yell. Louis’s too tired to yell. 

“Why are you here, Zayn?” is all he can ask. 

Zayn bites at his lip, but his heart’s always been on his face, and it’s not hiding anything–nerves and anger and love and fear and pain. It’s the same Louis’s feeling. “I wanted to meet your daughter,” he says, so fucking sincere. Zayn’s always done that, taken Louis’s feet out from under him with his sincerity. “I wanted, like, I didn’t want our shit to mean I never got to know her. You mean more to me than that.” 

Louis nods. Nine months ago, it wouldn’t have been enough. Nine months ago, he’d been seething and betrayed and overwhelmed and terrified and so hurt. But now…everything’s different, with his daughter a room away. With seeing Zayn love her already. 

“The guest room beds aren’t made up,” he says. Zayn tilts his head. 

“I can sleep on a couch, ‘s not a problem, you know me.” 

Louis shakes his head. Zayn should get this, he shouldn’t have to say it. “Don’t be stupid. My bed’s big enough for both of us.” 

Zayn’s smile blooms, wide and hopeful, and there’s those butterflies in Louis’s stomachs, the one he thought Zayn leaving had permanently squashed. “Yeah, like. Okay. Thanks.”

“You can get her when she wakes up again,” Louis tells him, and Zayn laughs as he walks with Louis to bed. 


	21. Chapter 21

_**Prompt:** _ **_things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear_ **

The meet at a party, in LA. It’s stupid, because Zayn wasn’t even meant to come, and he’d hear later that Louis wasn’t meant to either, but somehow they both ended up there anyway. And it was a big party, they shouldn’t have even seen each other, especially once the gossip had been whispered around the room that they were both there and everyone was waiting for them to get into a fight or something, should have just avoided each other. But avoidance was one thing neither of them were good at, and Zayn’s somehow not surprised when he ducks out onto a balcony to smoke and Louis’s there, huddled in a sweatshirt, staring out at the ocean. 

Zayn doesn’t say anything. He’s got nothing to say, after all; he’d have been fine staying what they were, if Louis hadn’t gone all bitchy. So he lights his cigarette and stares out at the ocean too. If he’s remembering too many nights like this in years past, too many nights of them on balconies smoking and just talking and laughing or even sitting in silence, well. He’s sentimental. 

“You’re not even going to talk to me?” Louis’s voice is sharp and hard. Zayn didn’t expect any different, honestly. “Not even worth a hello?” 

Zayn turns to him. Louis’s glaring now, the sort of glare he gets when he’s going on offense rather than look weak. “Hello,” Zayn drawls, and lets smoke tumble out of his lips. 

Then he takes a breath. It’s not–it’s a party. He can’t get into an actual fight with Louis here. He doesn’t want to get into a fight with Louis at all, that was never the point of any of this. “Enjoying LA?” 

“I’ve always enjoyed LA,” Louis retorts. Well, there goes his olive branch. Zayn rolls his eyes, turns away. He hears scuffling, then, “You? You always did like the sun.” 

Zayn laughs, he can’t help it. “I like the sunshine,” he corrects. “I don’t think The Sun’s too fond of me, these days.” It takes him a second, but Louis snorts. 

They smoke in silence for another few minutes. It’s different, somehow. Heavy, tense, but Zayn doesn’t think Louis’s going to attack him or anything. It’s been seven months since he’s seen him. That’s…almost surreal. Seven months, when once they could barely go two days. Seven months, and Louis’s the same, all sharp edges and a hidden softness if you know where to look. Seven months, and half a dozen petty fights, and Zayn finds he misses the sight of Louis with a cigarette at his lips. 

He’s almost down to the butt, when he remembers what else he has to say. “Hey, congratulations–” He cuts off, not knowing what to use. Bro? Mate? Are they? “Congratulations,” he says again. Louis gives him a questioning glance. “On the baby.” 

“Oh.” For a second, Louis’s face goes soft, and Zayn doesn’t know if it’s thinking about the baby or the thanks. Then it hardens again. “Thanks.” 

“You’ll be a great dad.” It’s true, and Zayn doesn’t have a problem saying it. Louis half raised all four of them, after all, or they all raised each other. Not to mention his sisters. “And you’ll be home for it, yeah? That’ll make it easier.” 

Louis nods. “Sure, home. The girls are thrilled, the twins just grew up so they’re glad to have more babies to spoil.” Zayn’s done with his cigarette, so he stubs it out, lets it drop into the ashtray. 

there’s nothing else to say, really. So he turns to go back inside. A whole conversation, and they didn’t fight once, everyone’ll be so disappointed. “Bye, Louis.” 

“See ya.” Louis raises a hand, and turns to look back at the ocean. It’s only because Zayn knows him so well, he thinks, that he catches the rest of it. The words Louis mutters to the ocean. “It’d be easier if you were there.” 

Zayn freezes, turns. Louis might want to get away with not having said that, but he’s never let Louis get away with anything, and he’s not starting now. “I’d be there if you let me.”

Louis doesn’t look away from the ocean. He looks small, which isn’t unusual, but it’s never how Zayn thinks of him. Zayn waits for another beat, but when he doesn’t say anything, Zayn stops waiting. If Louis wants to keep being a bitch, fine. He’ll miss knowing his child, but–

“She wants to meet you,” Louis says, suddenly. “Brianna. Said she wants to meet the people who’ll be important to the kid.” 

Zayn blinks. He’s not crying, but–it feels like letting out a breath. “You’ve got my number,” he says, and he can almost hear Louis’s smirk, as he turns, brushes past Zayn to go inside. 

“Maybe I’ll tweet it at you.” 


	22. Chapter 22

_**Prompt: sick louis bc h/c is all I need in my life... not too angsty** _

He’s late. Louis’s not surprised by this, because in the six-odd years he’s known Zayn and the many adjective he’s used to describe him, punctual has never been something that could be applied to Zayn, but god, Louis just wants this over with.

He sneezes into his elbow, then looks at his phone. Five past. That could even be described away with traffic, especially in LA. Or Zayn could not be coming. He would be surprised if Zayn didn’t show, because Zayn’s never backed down from a fight and hates saying no to Liam’s puppy dog eyes, even now, but he wishes Zayn would. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. He just wants to sleep. To go back to his hotel and put on his sweatpants and biggest hoodie and make himself some tea. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here, feeling like shit and knowing that Zayn’s going to be here, when a year ago Zayn being there was all he would want.

“Lou?” It’s been almost a year since Louis’s heard that voice in person, but he’d know it anywhere, even tentative sounding like it is, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to use the nickname.

“Zayn.” Louis looks up. Zayn looks good, of course. He always looks good, so it’s not like it’s a surprise, but somehow it adds insult to injury, that Louis feels so shitty and Zayn’s glowing. He would. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Zayn glances around the café, but Louis chose his seat carefully, and other than the security guard at the table next to them, no one’s watching them. Not that anyone would care about a member of a band on a break. Zayn must notice that, because he takes a seat, leaning back carelessly like he hasn’t wondered what would happen when they saw each other again for a year. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks,” Louis snaps. There’s a great opening line. “You’re looking well too.”

Zayn snorts. “Nah, like. Meant you look sick.” He rolls his eyes. “Or unwell, whatever. You feeling okay?”

Louis shrugs. Fuck him, for asking about how Louis’s feeling first thing. For noticing, first thing. “Bit under the weather. So, we’ve got stuff to discuss.”

“Is there an agenda?” Louis’d forgotten what it was like to have Zayn look at him like this, like he was seeing through him. No one looks at him like that anymore, except maybe his mum, but that’s different.

“You were the one who wanted a meeting.” He tries to say it sharply, but it’s cut off by a sneeze.

“I did,” Zayn agrees, calmly. He’s so calm, and Louis can’t even think. “I don’t want to work with people who don’t want to work with me. So, yeah. I wanted to talk.”

“Liam already talked to you about that,” Louis mutters, trying to make it clear his sniffing is because of his cold, not Zayn. He wraps his hands around the shitty American tea, takes a sip. It’s so not the same.

“Yeah, well, Liam’s not the one I’m worried—okay, fuck it, Lou, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Louis mutters, and blows his nose on a napkin. Zayn can keep talking over his sneezing, he doesn’t care. “Liam and I are a team, he wouldn’t agree to anything without talking to me. He thinks about his teammates.”

Zayn makes a face at the jab, but Louis can’t help it. He wants this done. He tries to keep his face set—and it’s interrupted when he’s hit by a sudden cold spell, his whole body shivering.

“Yeah, sure, you’re fine,” Zayn mutters, and he’s shoving back from the table. Louis’s eyes widen.

“You’re leaving? Again? Fuck you, Zayn, you—”

“Where are you staying?” Zayn asks, cutting him off. His arm’s on Louis’s forearm, and it’s through his sweatshirt but it’s the first time Zayn’s touched him in a year and that makes Louis shiver too, knowing that.

“Hotel. But we’re talking, you can’t just—”

“You aren’t staying with, like, the—your daughter?” Zayn asks, and it’s Louis’s turn to snort, at the attempt at tact.

“Nah, we’re not like that. And not when I’m sick, I know better. What are you doing?”

“Taking you back. You’re sick, you shouldn’t be out,” Zayn informs him, tugging him to his feet. That just makes Louis dig in his heels. Where does Zayn get off, bullying him like this? They had a meeting. This is business, nothing more. Zayn doesn’t get to take him home, not anymore.

“I can do what I want to do,” Louis snaps back, and grabs his tea. Zayn just looks at him, his eyebrows raised, and there’s another look Louis hasn’t gotten in a year. That quiet, steadfast surety that Louis can be as stubborn as he wants, Zayn will wait. He’d forgotten how much he hated it. How much he loved it. “Fine.” He sighs. “But this is under duress. You’re kidnapping me.”

“Uh-huh. Car’s outside.”

“Were you planning on storming out?” Louis mutters, as they head out of the café. There’s a black car parked right outside, and the driver hops out to hold open the door for them. If Louis was being kidnapped, at least it’s the politest sort. “Real classy, Malik.”

“Didn’t know what would happen.” Zayn shrugs, closes the door being him. “We could have been spotted. You could have left. You could have not shown up.”

It makes an annoying amount of sense, when Louis just wants to be mad at someone. “I’m not the one of us who leaves.”

“I’d forgotten how bitchy you are when you’re sick,” Zayn sighs, but Louis winces. It’s just—that word. That word and suddenly Louis flashes back, to the moment he saw that tweet, the mix of hurt and a sick sort of smug satisfaction that finally at least Zayn was paying attention to him.

“Thought I was always bitchy,” Louis tells the window. They’re tinted, but he can see the LA streets go by.

“You are,” Zayn agrees easily. Like that word hadn’t broken them, more than a little. “Are you cold?”

“No.” Louis ignores the fact that he’s shivering. The transition from LA heat to the AC wasn’t fun.

“Can you turn down the AC?” Zayn asks the driver, as Louis huffs and leans back in his seat.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Louis tells him, crossing his arms. “I don’t need your mothering. I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Looks like you’re really good at it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Really?” Zayn’s eyes narrow, and Louis’s cheeks go red. They haven’t talked about that. About that night in Thailand, high and desperate. Hadn’t had a chance to, with Zayn gone a few days later. “Sorry, I don’t fuck sick people.”

“I didn’t—” Luckily, Louis sneezes, because he’s not sure how he was going to finish that thought, and Zayn lets it lie.

It’s weird, somehow. Being in a car with Zayn, being able to look at him, still the same. Still almost offensively beautiful, still with those quiet eyes and understated strength. Weird to be sitting so far away from him, instead of messing about or sitting close, leaning on each other. Weird that it’s not weird to sit in silence with Zayn, watching him watch the streets. That it’s not weird to let Zayn take care of him, because he won’t let Louis say no. No one takes care of Louis really, not anymore. He loves Liam, is glad they’re still working together, but as much as Liam tries, Louis knows he can walk over him, in non-professional things at least. Zayn was always the only one who wouldn’t let Louis walk over him. Who would look at Louis like he knew exactly what he was doing, and if he did what Louis wanted it was just because he wanted to do it too.

And Louis’s far too exhausted and sick to think about what it means that Zayn’s still doing it, that he’s going along with Zayn being a mother hen, that he hasn’t spoken to Zayn in a year and nothing’s really changed.

“Wake up, Lou.” There’s a hand shaking his shoulder. Louis  groans and bats at it.

“Go away.”

“I’m not carrying you in, so you’ve got to wake up, bro.” Louis knows that hand, the one that’s shaking him with the mix of gentle and firm that only one person’s ever managed, and he’s mostly asleep and he always sleeps best when Zayn’s there to make him feel better.

“No, you come here,” Louis mumbles, and tugs. Maybe Zayn will cuddle with him, will make him stop hurting.

“Louis.” He’s shaking again, and he’s waking up, unwillingly. “Wake up before you say something stupid.”

That wakes Louis up, and—fuck, right. He must have drifted off in the car. “I’m fine,” he replies. He didn’t say anything stupid, just thought it. “Where are we?”

He opens his eyes, and Zayn’s right there, so close that he must hear Louis’s sharp intake of breath. The last time they were that close—Louis doesn’t have the brain power to think about that.

“Mine.” Zayn answers, pulling back. “Now come on.”

Next thing Louis knows, somehow he’s on the couch in Zayn’s living room, in a sweatshirt that he could swear he’d seen Liam wearing once but maybe originally was Zayn’s, and there’s a cat on his lap and a dog sprawled out on his feet. It’s all weirdly comfortable, like it could be two years ago and Louis was whining to Zayn in his living room because El was at school and he wanted someone to pay attention to him.

He can hear Zayn singing to himself in another room, the smooth riffs that Louis’s known so well for so long, that Louis’d maybe started thinking about lyrics for, if Zayn’s new style could use them. It should make his headache worse, but it’s soothing, like the sweatshirt’s soothing and even the loud colors of the room is soothing, because it’s so very Zayn.

He sniffles, runs his fingers over the kitten’s fur. He’d kill for a cup of tea, a real one.

Like magic, Zayn appears in the doorway, holding a mug. Louis’s not sure which looks more attractive, the steaming tea in a Doctor Who mug or the man holding it, who looks so beautiful and comfortable and a lot like home.

And Louis doesn’t have the brainpower to think about that either, so he just holds out his hands for the mug.

“Let’s see if you got any better at making tea.”

“At least it’s proper tea,” Zayn retorts. He doesn’t sit down, just stands in front of the couch as Louis takes a sip. If Louis didn’t know better, he might think he was nervous, but he does. Zayn’s not nervous, not anymore. Not in front of Louis.

“Acceptable,” Louis allows, swallowing. Zayn never has been good at making tea, but it’s hard to totally mess up tea. Still, it makes Zayn smile, the soft slow blooming smile that Louis’d always guarded so fiercely. It makes Louis feel as good as the tea, he thinks.

“So, you can sleep, yeah? If the animals are bothering you, I can put them outside, yeah? Just, like, shout if you need something.”

This time it’s Louis who rolls his eyes. “C’mere.”

“What?”

Louis lets out a breath, but he’s tired and his head hurts and Zayn was smiling at him and taking care of him and he’d missed that, damn it. “Come here,” he repeats, and shuffles over a little so there’s room for Zayn to sit. As soon as he does, gingerly, like Louis’s going to attack, Louis leans in to him, same as they’ve lain on a hundred other couches.

“We really do have to talk, sometime.” Zayn’s voice is quiet, his hand in Louis’s hair, and it feels so good. It feels like Louis can breathe, for the first time in a year; like he can close his eyes without fear, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything.

“Yeah,” Louis admits. “Not now, though.” Not while Louis still feels like crap. Not while Louis doesn’t want to ruin this with talking about everything that’s between them, that could go so wrong or so right. “Just want to sleep, now.”

“Okay, bro.” He can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice. “Feel better.”

Louis turns his face into Zayn’s shoulder. “I already do.”


	23. Chapter 23

_**Prompt: “Come over here and make me.”** _

“Dad?”

“Freddie!” Louis’s relief is a near palpable thing. He actually falls back onto the nearest seat, which he doesn’t think he’s ever done before. But he’s also never heard anything quite so beautiful as the sound of his son’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, dad.” He says it like Louis’s insane for being worried, after his son went missing for a full day. Louis’s fairly certain he was never that bad as a ten year old, though his mom might argue differently. But none of that matters, because Freddie is fine and safe and not kidnapped or any other of the nightmares Louis’s been having since he got the call from that his son, rather than being at the nanny’s like he was supposed to be while Brianna was on vacation and Louis was in London, had disappeared.

There’s noise in the background of the phone on Freddie’s side, what sounds like dogs, and some older voice. “Where are you?” Louis demands.

“I’m, um. Well.” Freddie sounds sheepish now. “That’s the thing.”

“Freddie Reign Tomlinson.” Sometimes Louis wonders when he became his mother, but he doesn’t care. Not when his son is on the line. “Where are you?”

The voice in the background on the other end is coming more into view. “Tell him where you are, right now.”

It’s been almost ten years since Louis heard that voice, even over the phone, and it still makes Louis’s heart seize. “Freddie–”

“I’m at Zayn’s? Zayn Malik’s?” Louis’s hand tightens on the phone. It’s not even anger, what he’s feeling. It’s just either too much or too little, all at once. It’s almost like that horrible few hours after hearing Zayn left, left him.

“Why are you at Zayn’s?” Louis snaps.

“I’m not stupid, dad.” Freddie doesn’t sound sheepish any more. “I see the pictures. I see him with Uncle Liam and Uncle Niall and Harry. And Uncle Liam talks about him sometimes. I wanted to know who he was.”

“So you ran away to his house?” Sometimes Louis wishes Freddie was less his son. Zayn’s house. Zayn’s bloody house. “Why–”

“I went to the studio, actually. It was easier to find.” Yes, definitely his son. “And it’s been great! Dad, he has so many dogs, like twelve of them, and the house is so cool and he let me read some of his comics and–”

“I am sending someone to get you right now,” Louis cuts him off. He doesn’t want to hear about Zayn. He hasn’t wanted anything to do with Zayn for ten years, and that’s how he wants to keep it. The second he starts thinking about Zayn again–starts wondering what the dogs’ names are, whether he has a cool game room in his house, whether any of the comics they bought together are there–he won’t be able to stop, and he’s gone down that road before. He’s gotten wrapped up in Zayn before, and it didn’t end well.

“No.”

“Freddie, you are coming home.”

“Come over here and make me.” Freddie’s got his most stubborn voice on. “Then you can talk to him. I think he misses you, he asked about–”

“Give him the phone.” Louis cuts him off before Freddie can finish that statement. Talking to Zayn will be better than hearing that.

There’s a moment’s negotiation, then Louis clenches his eyes closed, because if he’d never heard that voice again, it’d be too soon. If he heard it every day, it wouldn’t be enough. It’s definitely too much. “Lou?”

“Did you seriously kidnap my son?” Louis demands.

“No.” Zayn says it evenly, too evenly. “He showed up at the studio and wouldn’t go away. I figured it’d be better to keep him with me than let him go anywhere else. I didn’t realize you didn’t know where he was until just now. No matter what you think, I’m not that much of an as–horrible person.”

No. Louis knows he isn’t. That’s the problem. Louis knows he isn’t. Knows that, despite everything, despite what’s happened, he still trusts Zayn to keep his son safe. He just needs to finish this quickly and then go back to safely not thinking about Zayn for the next ten years. “I’ll send someone to pick him up.”

“No you won’t!” Freddie yells, loud enough for Louis to hear him. There’s a ruckus that Louis suspects is Zayn’s multitude of dogs. “I’m not leaving until you come and pick me up yourself. I’ll run away again!”

Louis sighs. He doesn’t doubt it, is the problem. Of course Louis’s son would decide to stick close to Zayn. Maybe it’s a Tomlinson thing. Maybe it’s in his blood.

“I really can’t leave today,” Louis tells Zayn. He just–he can’t. He has important meetings and no matter Freddie’s whims, these are things he can’t miss. “I can negotiate…”

“It’s fine. We’ll have fun, won’t we, Fred?” There’s a fondness in Zayn’s voice that makes Louis want to punch something. He doesn’t get to be fond of Louis’s son. He doesn’t get to use that fond tone with anyone but Louis. He doesn’t get to come back into Louis’s life and fuck with his head like this, especially when he seems perfectly okay talking to Louis. Like he should. They were co-workers ten years ago. It doesn’t matter that it felt like more, that there was a time when Louis might have sworn they were some sort of soulmates. That’s all it was. Louis just needs to forget everything else and treat him like that. “He can come to the studio with me tomorrow, then we can chill. Lads night and all.”

“Yeah!” Freddie cheers, and Louis wants to bash his head against a wall. They aren’t supposed to bond. Zayn forfeited that right when he walked out of Louis’s life and decided to fuck everything they were. “I’ll see you soon, dad!”

Louis knows he should apologize, for making Zayn babysit if nothing else. But he’s not apologizing to Zayn Malik. Not for anything. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Keep me updated.” Zayn sounds unconcerned, but even after ten years apparently Louis hasn’t erased all Zayn knowledge as well as he’d thought, because he can hear the shy determination in Zayn’s voice as he continues. “It’s good to hear your voice, Louis.”

He’s not supposed to say shit like that. He’s always known how to floor Louis with just a word. “A few days,” Louis snaps, and hangs up before Zayn can say something else that sounds too close to affection.

He stares at the phone for a long moment, like it’ll bite. Like Zayn’s face will pop up on it. Like somehow it’ll ring and it’ll be Freddie saying he’s at his grandmother’s and Louis’d imagined the last conversation.

But it doesn’t do any of that. Louis takes a deep breath. A few days. A few days, and then he’ll see Zayn again. He’s an adult; he can handle that maturely.

Well. He can handle that.


	24. Chapter 24

**_I was thinking too much about the emotions at Wembley and Zayn not being there but sort of being there in spirit, and well, this happened:_ **

Louis doesn’t mean to call him. 

Really, he doesn’t. He means to call his agent, or his manager, or maybe in a pinch Liam, because that’s who you call when things go to shit, and, well. He’s pretty sure this is the definition of things going to shit. At least it’s after it’s all over, he thinks, and laughs, because he has to laugh or the alcohol will catch up to him and he’ll start crying. It’ll be a great headline tomorrow: Louis Tomlinson, arrested and crying! They’re probably be pictures and they’ll talk about how it’s because Harry broke up with him and he’ll look like shit. 

And maybe he’s too busy thinking about things like that, because his fingers are dialing before he even gets a chance to stop the muscle memory. He almost throws the phone away as soon as he notices, as it starts to ring, but there’s a big guy sitting on the other side of the holding cell eying him in a way Louis doesn’t like, and a couple more huddled together talking about something Louis really hopes isn’t him, and for once in his life he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. If he’s lucky, no one will ever know this happened. No one will ever know how fucking stupid he is. Zayn’s probably won’t even pick up his phone, and then Louis gets another call, he’s pretty sure. That’s how it works in films. 

Yeah, it’s fine, Louis decides, as the phone rings. Zayn won’t pick up, and then Louis can call Liam, because it’s not like Zayn would do anything for him anyway. Louis doesn’t need Zayn to do shit for him. He’s just letting it ring for pride’s sake, because he’s not going to be the one to back down. He can’t be. 

Six rings. There can’t be more than that, can there? Louis doesn’t remember. He knew once. Knew exactly how many rings because the difference was the difference between Zayn forgetting to answer his phone and Zayn ignoring it because he’s busy. It’ll go to voicemail soon, and Louis will be able to call Liam and get out of here before anyone notices he was fucking arrested, and he’s still not happy about that either. Liam’ll be a drag about it, but it’s in his interest to keep it quiet too, so it’ll be fine. 

“’Lo?” 

Louis almost drops the phone again. He’d been so sure Zayn wouldn’t answer, that now that he did, he almost doesn’t know what to say. Fuck, and now this is his one phone call. Now he doesn’t get anything else, can’t just call Liam. 

“Hello?” Zayn repeats. His voice is rough, like he just woke up, and Louis doesn’t want to know that. He’s just guessing, he decides, because it is four in the morning. 

“Hey.” Louis tries to be nonchalant, but he doesn’t think he hits it. He’s too fucking drunk for this still. 

Zayn’s breath is loud. “Louis?” 

“Yeah. Look. I didn’t mean to call you, but now I can’t call someone else. Can you call Liam and tell him to get someone to…” Louis glances around, then mutters the name of the police station under his breath. “As soon as he can? I need to get the fuck out of here.” 

He doesn’t know what he expects. Liam would have lectured, would have asked questions. Niall would have laughed, because he’d have been too pissed not to. Harry would probably have asked some stupid questions too. 

Zayn takes another breath. “You got arrested?” 

Louis rolls his eyes at the wall. “No shit,” he snaps. “Now I need to get out of here before someone notices it’s me. And you should care about that too,” he goes on, drunk and reckless and this is the first time in months he’s talked to Zayn and now he can’t stop, “People stop buying our old albums because I was arrested and you lose out.” 

“Glad to see you’re still an asshole,” Zayn tells him, and hangs up the phone. 

Louis glares at the receiver. He’s such an idiot. Calling Zayn, what the fuck was he thinking? He hands the phone back to the officer, then leans against the wall. His head starts to spin as soon as he lets it. He just wants this night to be over—wanted it to be over before it began really, the last live show, fuck. Or maybe not the last, but the last for a while, and just. Everything’s going to change now, and he didn’t want that. Didn’t want to think about it. Maybe getting drunk and yelling at a police officer and ending up in a drunk tank wasn’t the best way to not think about it, but Louis’s never been known for making good decisions. Like calling Zayn, and he’s back to that. Fuck. He doesn’t even know if Zayn will call Liam. He might, he talks to Liam now, sometimes. Or maybe he’ll let Louis rot here. He’s too bloody drunk for this. 

Louis doesn’t know how much time passes, as he leans against the wall, tries not to let his face be seen. He can’t ruin everything now, he won’t. Not when they made it so far, so cleanly. Shit like that fucking bond, yeah, but nothing else. Liam’d always said Louis’d be arrested, though that had started way back, when he thought Louis really was a risk. Zayn had laughed at that, had slung an arm over Louis’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you,” he’d promised, and fucking hell Louis’d believed him. That’s probably why he called Zayn, out of that stupid lingering instinct he still has no matter how much he tries to get rid of it. Partners in crime. Well, the crime part’s right, apparently. 

“Tomlinson?” The officer, a middle aged man—than fuck, maybe he doesn’t know who Louis is—calls. Louis bolts to his feet, then sways when his head goes light. “You’ve made bail, come on.” 

Louis’s too focused on walking in a somewhat straight line to make some comment about it. He just follows the officer, through the halls, out into the front room. 

But there’s no Liam there. No Louis’s agent, or his manager. It’s basically empty, this time of night, so Louis would see them if they were there. Instead there’s just a woman at the desk, and a slight blonde man in a leather jacket leaning over the table, filling out forms. 

Louis has to grab onto the wall to keep himself from falling over. He didn’t—he’s not ready for this. He didn’t mean for this to happen. He was supposed to send someone. He was supposed to call Liam. He wasn’t supposed to come, to see Louis right now at his fucking bottom, drunk in a police station too fucked up about a band Zayn left to handle his shit. 

“Can I go back to the cell, please?” he drawls, and Zayn looks up. 

Louis’s seen pictures of him, of course. But it’s different. Seeing him again. Zayn with his big eyes and sharp angles and a softness in him that comes from his unstyled hair and beard. He’d clearly rolled out of bed to get here, Louis thinks, unwilling. He looks different blonde. Good. Zayn always looks good. It’s his superpower. Louis’d envied that, once. He’d envied a lot of things. 

Zayn gives him a long look, then turns back to the desk clerk, gives her ones of his slow, hopeful smiles, the crooked ones that are almost as deadly as Harry’s pout or Liam’s puppy dog eyes. “These numbers will work for his contacts, yeah? His lawyer’ll contact you in the morning. I’m sure you can figure something out.” 

“Yeah,” she breathes, and Louis snorts. Zayn always could get women to do whatever they wanted, with just a smile. Could get anyone. Even Louis had fallen for it, for the…snake in the grass thing, or whatever. “Yeah,” she repeats, firmer. “This will work. Do you need help with him?” 

Louis’s even with Zayn now, and the cop escorting him steps away. Louis manages to stay straight. It’s just the floor that’s moving. 

“It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with him drunk, ‘m fine,” Zayn assures the desk clerk. He turns, puts a hand on Louis’s waist—and Louis jerks away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses. Zayn can’t fucking touch him. He lost that right when he left. 

Zayn looks up in his patented ‘why is Louis being such an idiot’ look. “Fine. Come on, then. Don’t make a scene, yeah?” he adds, and Louis glares but he’s right. 

He lets Zayn lead him out of the police station, down into the car. Louis instinctively heads towards the drivers’ side, before he pauses. “Who were you planning on driving this thing?” 

“Me. Get in.” 

“You can’t drive.” 

“I can now.” Zayn opens the passenger side door. It’s an old car, vintage like Zayn’s into. “Get in.” 

Louis will be able to deal with Zayn much better sitting down, he decides. So he does get in, settling into the passenger side as Zayn gets in on the other side. 

This is where Zayn will start gloating, he decides. Where he’ll start talking about how he knew Louis was a fuck up, that he knew Louis couldn’t deal with things without him, that he’s doing so much better than Louis is. He’s wrong. Louis’s doing awesome. Zayn’s doing awesome too, he knows that, has to admit it, but Louis and the band are great. Well. Not the band anymore. Louis and the other boys. 

The silence stretches on, as they drive away. Louis’d forgotten just how much Zayn could say with silence. 

“This isn’t about you,” he says, and then curses himself. Fuck. He lost that one. 

“I never thought it was.” 

“It’s just. Everything’s changing, and it’s hard, and it’s sad. We played Wembley tonight. X Factor final. Last live show for a year at least.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” He drives with his hands right at ten and two, his back straight. Fucking nerd. “Heard you smashed it.” 

“We did. There were pictures. Of, like. Us.” Louis’s fist clenches, as he thinks about being on that stage, knowing if he looked behind him there’d be a picture of all of them, on top of the world. When they knew where everything stood, who they were together. “Of you too.”

“I’d hope so. I was there.” 

Zayn’s being so fucking even. Louis hates it. Zayn with his stupid even face and his stupid perfect profile and the way he left. Has he changed this much in nine months? The Zayn Louis knew at least had emotion. He’d wore his heart on his sleeve, and maybe in retrospect that was the problem, but at least it was better than this. Zayn cold’s like a marble statue, and Louis hates it. Hates that he hates it. He shouldn’t care. 

“For part of it,” Louis needles. “Not the best part, haven’t you heard?” 

Zayn’s fingers shift. “I’m glad you guys are doing well. Proud of you, yeah? Knew you would.” 

“Fuck that.” Louis folds his arms over his chest, leans back. “You didn’t give a damn about us.” 

Zayn lets out a long breath, and Louis digs his fingers into his arm. It’s a reaction. “Louis.” 

“What was it? You wanted to go home, so you did. Didn’t even fucking think what it meant for us. Didn’t even fucking think that maybe we were your friends and would’ve made things better. Didn’t even fucking think that maybe we needed you too!” 

“I thought this has been the best part,” Zayn retorts, quick and harsh, and Louis winces. Zayn always knew how to hurt him. But at least it’s a reaction. 

“We didn’t know it would be,” Louis snaps back. “We could’ve crashed and burned and you wouldn’t have cared because your real music would’ve been fine.” 

“I knew you wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah? One Directions’ biggest fan now, are you? Even though you what, wouldn’t listen to it with your girl? Even though you couldn’t express anything you wanted even though we got you to write, you’d written as much as Niall—”

“Not on anything that was me, and you know it.” There it is. Louis’d known that would work. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it as they got to a light, slammed to a halt a bit too fast, but at least it’s something. “You know better than anyone, Lou, so don’t give me that.” 

Louis does know. If he were better at repressing, he might be able to ignore it, but he remembers countless recording sessions, Zayn going in excited and coming out drained, leaving to go out and smoke or rolling a joint together on Bus 1 as Zayn sparked with an angry, fascinating sort of focus. Waking up to Zayn messing around on his guitar, his head bent over a notebook, scribbling out songs that never made it anywhere. He remembers the meetings about which songs would go on Four, and seeing Zayn’s jaw jut and his eyes flash as the list was finalized and how he’d stalked out after, headed to Shahid’s rather than Louis’s like they’d planned. Remembers Zayn, bright eyed with weed and excitement, talking about all the shit he’d do, if he were allowed. 

“Fine.” Louis huffs out a breath, turns to watch London go by outside his window. “Still. You didn’t give a damn about us. You could at least admit it.” 

“I stayed for five years.” 

“To set up for your solo career. Now you’re all nice and launched. Glad we could be of use to you.” 

“This is why you got arrested,” Zayn says, still so fucking calm and Louis wants to scream. Wants to scream until Zayn shows some more emotion, until he’s—until he’s Louis’s Zayn again, until he’s someone Louis knows, until Louis figures out why he called him and why he’s there and what the fuck is going on, until Zayn does what he’d always used to do and set things right in Louis’s head. “You don’t know when to shut up.” 

“I got arrested because I was drunk.” 

“And disorderly, and resisting arrest.” Zayn’s smirking. 

“At least it wasn’t drugs.” Louis resists the urge to tap on the dashboard, because he doesn’t want to let Zayn see he’s fidgety. He can’t live this far away from the station. Why isn’t he away yet? “But that’s you, right? You’re the one who missed things because of your drug problem. Or was that another rumor too much for your sensitive skin?” 

Louis can actually see the moment Zayn breaks. It’s almost fun, to see the second the tension in Zayn’s muscles snap, to see the fire spark to life in his gaze. To see the fight come back. 

“What the fuck do you want from me, Louis?” he demands, his voice sharp. “I know you’re an asshole when you’re drunk but I’m doing you a fucking favor, the least you could do is shut the hell up before I make you.” 

“You’ve never been able to make me shut up!” 

The noise Zayn makes might actually be a growl. “You know why I left. You clearly read the article. I’ve talked to Liam about it, and I know he told you. He’s over it. Why can’t you be?” 

“Why can’t I stop bitching about your life, you mean?” 

“It was one bloody tweet and you were being a bitch!” Zayn’s voice fills the car. Maybe Louis shouldn’t have started this while they were driving, but it feels so good. “You were and you knew it and that’s why you stopped after that. So yeah, I can shut you up. I could go to the press tomorrow and do a fucking expose on how Louis Tomlinson can’t deal with change or how he’s afraid he won’t be able to do things on his own so he went and got drunk and got himself arrested. Would that shut you up?” 

“I don’t know, I could go tell them about some of the shit we did. Think they’d like that? Zayn Malik: the real story. Do wonders for your album sales.” 

“I didn’t do shit and you know it.” Zayn smirks, without any mirth. “And I was never arrested.” 

“Bieber was, didn’t do him any harm.” 

“We both know you aren’t Bieber.” 

Louis can’t help the sound he makes at that, like he was punched in the stomach. Fucking hell. It’s true, he knows it’s true, he’s not Bieber. He’s not Zayn, he can’t break away, can’t hold a stage on his own. Zayn’s always known where to twist the knife. Always known how to shut Louis up. 

“Look. Louis.” Zayn’s voice is quieter now. He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds exhausted. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve called. You’re the one not answering. You’re the one who called me to bail you out of jail and are yelling at me for it.”

“Why did you come?” It’s better to ask that than to confront any of the rest of it. The fact that Zayn had called, and Louis hadn’t picked up, because why the fuck would he? The fact that Zayn’s exhaustion wears at him too. It’s hard to be so mad at Zayn. Hard to remember to be mad when sometimes he just wants to text him something because he knows it’ll make him laugh, wants his advice. When sometimes he thinks about raising his child without the boy who was his best friend as help and it makes his heart ache. “Why didn’t you just call Liam?” 

Zayn pulls into Louis’s drive, throws the car into park, before turning to Louis. It’s dark, but Louis can still read the look in his eyes, the helpless sincerity. He’s always been able to read Zayn.  “I always said when you got arrested, I’d be there with you.” 

“Zayn.” Fuck. Louis…he doesn’t know how to deal with that. With Zayn being Zayn, and the sincerity in him that crept through all of Louis’s walls. It made him believe Zayn, is the thing. Made him believe him when he said shit like this, when he said ‘you’, when he said he wouldn’t leave Louis. Made him believe it, and then didn’t mean it. Except…fuck, Louis always believes it. 

“No. Go. Sleep it off.” Zayn shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Deal with this mess. And like. Call.” He shrugs, but Louis can see right through his nonchalance. “If you want.” 

“Yeah.” Louis slides out. His bed sounds inviting right now. His bed, and not thinking about this fucking night. “And, Zayn?” he adds, before closing the door. He just—he doesn’t know, he’s drunk. It’s a night for bad decisions, apparently. He’s been arrested, everything else will pale in comparison to that. “The blonde looks good.” 

He shuts the door on Zayn’s surprised smile. It feels good, to get that reaction out of Zayn. To know he still can. 

It’s been a night for bad decisions, he thinks again, getting into bed. Bad decisions and change and uncertainty and he hates it so fucking much. Maybe he’ll call, though, he thinks, as he falls asleep. He’ll have to pay him back for bail, at least. He can’t go around owing Zayn anything. Yeah, he decides. He’ll definitely have to call. For that at least.  


	25. Chapter 25

_**Prompt: Reacting to the other one crying about something (can Zayn be the one who's crying?)** _

Zayn cries silently. He always has. It means that when Louis walks into the room with Liam, he doesn’t know Zayn is crying until he looks at him. He’s still saying shit even, shit about his day and the one fucking customer who wouldn’t leave and Liam didn’t even buy him a pint after work and stuff that doesn’t even begin to matter as soon as he looks at where Zayn is sitting on the couch, curled over like he’s in pain, and sees the tears welling out of his eyes, the tear tracks down his face. 

“Zayn?” He doesn’t cry often. Zayn’s emotive, sure, but tears aren’t his forte. He gets angry more than he gets sad. Is more likely to brood than cry. Louis isn’t used to this. Isn’t used to the big eyes Zayn turns on him, wide and almost plaintive, like he’s not sure what he’s doing. Behind him, Liam’s stopped talking. Or maybe he still is, Louis doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. “Zayn, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s my–” Zayn’s voice breaks. “It’s my dad.” 

Liam breathes in, hard. “Is he…” 

“What happened?” Louis demands, because Liam’s not going to finish that and he needs to know. Needs to know so he can know what to do to help Zayn, because Zayn is supposed to be–well, his partner. His partner in crime. The one who pushes when he pulls so they stick in equilibrium. The one who tells Louis when he’s going too far and stands in his way if he does anyway. He’s the strong one, always has been. And now he’s staring at his hands like he doesn’t know what they are. 

“He–he’s in the hospital.” He’s reciting it, it sounds like. Flat. Mechanical. “Heart attack.” 

Louis drops his bag, and doesn’t care what the fuck thunks down so hard. “Make him tea,” he tells Liam, then doesn’t pay any more attention to them so he can sit down next to Zayn, wrap an arm around him. Zayn turns into his shoulder immediately, and he’s shaking. “It’s okay, love,” he murmurs, into Zayn’s hair. He knows it won’t stop anything, but maybe it’ll help. Like tea, like stroking Zayn’s back. He’s not even sure if Zayn is crying anymore, or if he’s just shaking against Louis, trembling. 

“He’s in the hospital.” Zayn’s voice is rougher now. Still quiet, so quiet only Louis can hear, and Louis’s not even sure he’s supposed to hear. “They think he’s going to be okay, but–I don’t–what if he isn’t? What am I supposed to do?” 

Louis doesn’t have an answer for that, and platitudes are stupid and pointless, when you could be doing things instead. He keeps one arm around Zayn, and uses the other to open his phone. 

“Next train to Bradford’s in two hours. I’ll pack you a bag.” 

“What?” 

“You’re going to go to Bradford. I’ll email your professors, or Liam will. It’ll be fine.” Louis will make it be fine. Louis will go see each professor in person if he has to, make sure they know. “You’ve got to be with your family, Zee.” 

“I–” Zayn lifts his head, and it’s like the tears are making his eyes even bigger, catching in his eyelashes. “Can you–like, I don’t know if I can, alone–please?” 

He’s not making any sense, but Louis gets it. He presses his lips to Zayn’s forehead, as Liam comes in with the tea. “Yeah. I’ll come to.” Zayn’s usually the strong one. The one who holds them up. But he can be the strong one for Zayn, as long as he needs. “Don’t worry about a thing, love. I got you.” 


	26. Chapter 26

_**Prompt: patching up a wound** _

Louis glares at Zayn. Zayn glares at Louis. It feels remarkably familiar, locked in a room, staring at each other mutinously. Of course, the last time it happened they were eighteen and Paul had locked them in, rather than being twenty-five and Liam doing it out of sheer annoyance. 

“I don’t know what you expected me to do,” Louis spits, suddenly. he doesn’t like sitting in silence with Zayn. Zayn’s always been better at using silence to hurt. Louis’s silence doesn’t hurt Zayn like Zayn’s does him. And it reminds Louis too much of the time when Zayn was the best person to be quiet with. 

Zayn’s eyes narrow. His eye is turning black, and Louis feels some sort of pride at that at least. He got a decent punch in. He’s never been a fighter, but that’ll last. “I don’t know,” Zayn retorts, “Maybe not make a scene at Niall’s stag night?” 

“Well that was a pipe dream,” Louis snorts. He shakes his hand. It hurts. He didn’t know punching someone hurt that much. He’s not even thinking about the bruise he’s going to have, because Zayn, unlike him, does know how to punch. “You shouldn’t have even come.” 

“I’m supposed to miss Niall’s stag do because you’re still pissy about three years ago?” 

“I’m still pissy you abandoned me, yes!” It comes out louder than Louis expected. He rubs at his knuckles again. “Sorry that I can’t get over that!” 

“I didn’t–” Zayn huffs out a breath, then gets up. Louis watches him with narrow eyes, as he goes to the freezer, pulls out an ice pack. Louis expects him to put it on his own eye, but instead, he crosses the room. 

Louis doesn’t let himself wince away when Zayn nears him. What is Zayn doing? Once, he’d never have needed to ask that question. Now, he just doesn’t know. Is Zayn going to hit him with the ice pack? 

He doesn’t. He sits down next to Louis instead, and picks up his hand, setting the ice pack against his knuckles. 

It’s the first time Zayn’s touched him in years. Louis’d–he’d forgotten how he touched Louis, sure but gentle. Firm but tender. Like he didn’t think Louis would break, but he wanted to make sure of it anyway. No one ever touches Louis like that anymore. Zayn shouldn’t either. Louis should shove him away again. He’s so mad, still. So furious. But he can’t move. 

“What are you doing?” he demands, instead. 

“You need to ice those. I’m surprised you didn’t break your hand.” It’s not an answer. Louis knows it, and Zayn knows he knows it. “Didn’t you ever learn how to punch?”

“Enough to give you a black eye,” Louis retorts. 

“’Cause I didn’t think you’d really do it.” Zayn lifts his free hand, presses on the bruise. “That’s gonna be fun to explain. Think anyone will believe I walked into a door?” 

“You could just say the truth.” 

Zayn snorts. “Yeah, that’d be fun. Blow up twitter.” 

“You didn’t care before.” 

“Neither did you,” Zayn snaps back. His hand is still on Louis’s, keeping the ice there. Louis wishes he’d just be cruel. Cruel is easy. He knows how to fight cruel. He’s never really known how to fight Zayn. 

Zayn takes a breath, long and slow, like he’s calming himself down. “Look. I didn’t come here to fight you.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“You threw the first punch!” 

“You left!” Louis yanks his hand away so he can get up, get away from Zayn. Zayn catches his hand before he can, keeping him here. Which is such ironic bullshit. 

“No. Louis, we’re having this out. I’m sick of this. Do you want to punch me again? You can. I’ll let you.” Zayn flings his arms open, like he’s baring himself to Louis. “Just fucking talk to me already. It’s been three years. Haven’t you gotten over it yet?” 

Louis just stares. Gotten over it? Does he think it’s that easy? Does he think Louis doesn’t want Zayn back? Does he think Louis doesn’t wish everything hadn’t gotten so twisted, that Zayn hadn’t up and left and Louis hadn’t picked a fight and they’d figured out how to understand each other before all this rage and hurt settled in Louis and started to fester? Does he think Louis doesn’t miss Zayn? 

“Fine.” Zayn actually throws the ice pack at Louis, who somehow manages to catch it. “Keep the ice on your hand.” He turns around, stalks to the other side of the room, his back to Louis. It’s shaking. 

Louis closes his fist around the ice. It’s burning cold. His hand hurts. Zayn’s eye probably hurts. There’s just so much hurt. He’s been hurting for so long. 

Louis crosses the room, so he’s standing next to Zayn, and shoves the ice pack back at him. “Here. Your eye probably needs it more.” 

Zayn blinks at him, big eyes, full of a wary hope. It still gets to Louis, even after all this time. It probably always will. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Louis hands over the ice pack. Zayn takes it, presses it to his eye. It’s not much. But maybe it’s a start. 


	27. Chapter 27

_**Prompt: slowdancing** _

“Look, it’s easy.” 

“It’s not easy! What if I fall over?” 

“You aren’t going to fall over.” Louis glares at Liam, so he understands that it’s an order, and ignores how Zayn and Harry are laughing at them. Niall probably had the right idea, going on that food run. 

“I will,” Liam moans, with the sort of pathetic certainty that makes Louis want to shake him. “I’ll fall over and rip her dress and she’ll hate me forever.” 

“You’ve danced before,” Zayn points out, from where he’s sprawled on the bed. He’d shifted to take up the space Louis had left when he’d gotten up to try to teach Liam, stretching out so his shirt is over his stomach and his head is propped up on his arm. “You’re a good dancer.” 

“Not, like. This kind of dancing.” Liam drops his face into his hands. “And her whole family will be there, and they’ll all be looking–”

“I think they’ll be looking at the bride and groom, actually,” Harry inserts. Helpful, for once. 

“They’ll be looking when I fall.” 

“You’re not going to fall,” Louis repeats. “We won’t let you. I’ll teach you, come on.”

“You know how to dance?” Harry looks politely skeptical, which is about the same as most people accusing him of a lie point blank. 

“I’ve got five million sisters, yes I can dance. Liam–”

“No. It’s hopeless.” 

“It’s not. Malik, come here.” 

“Why?” Zayn stretches again. He needs to stop doing that. It’s very distracting. 

“Because you’re a shit dancer, and so if you can do it so can Liam.” 

“Oh, thanks.” But Zayn gets up with a groan, his shirt falling back down. Louis doesn’t notice that, or anything. He just assumes. Because of gravity. In fact, he’s not looking at Zayn’s torso at all, just his face, which is smiling at Louis, that partners in crime smile that makes Louis want to punch things sometimes. Just because. 

Suddenly, music starts, some sort of waltz, and Louis jerks around to find Harry holding up his phone. “You need music!” 

“He’s got a point,” Zayn agrees, his lips curving into a lopsided smile. “Can’t dance without music.” 

Louis’s mouth is dry, suddenly. Maybe he didn’t think this through. He should have bullied Harry into helping him. Gotten Liam to just do it. Anything but this. “I’m leading.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Zayn agrees, then he’s holding out his arms and Louis has to take them, has to step closer to Zayn and put his hand on his waist and Zayn’s are on his shoulder. They’re this close all the time, but Louis can see the freckle in Zayn’s eye, every one of his eyelashes. “Gonna start?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out breathier than Louis wanted. He clears his throat. “Liam, so, you’d be me. Watch.” 

He doesn’t know if Liam responds. The music’s still going, and Louis starts to move because if he’s moving he doesn’t have to think about the pink of Zayn’s lips, and Zayn’s moving with him, perfectly in time. He’d sort of expected Zayn t be clumsy, for this to turn into a joke so Liam could see that the worst case wouldn’t be that bad–but of course Zayn’s in time with him. Zayn’s always in step with him. Always anticipates Louis’s moods and whims the same way he anticipates Louis’s turns. 

Zayn’s eyes are down, looking at his feet, but Louis can’t stop staring at him. He needs to. He knows that. He needs to stop staring, needs to tuck this whole thing back into the part of his brain that he doesn’t think about, like he has with so many things about Zayn. Needs to not feel how warm Zayn’s back is under his hand, even through his t-shirt, needs not to think about how they’re the same height basically and so their lips are lined up. Or, even worse, to think about how Zayn could just lay his head on Louis’s shoulder, how he’d let him. 

The music’s done, and they’re still. Louis should let go. So should Zayn, really, but he’s not either, just does that thing where he ducks his head so he can smile up through his lashes. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance,” Louis says, because he has to say something. It was supposed to be accusatory, because how dare he not tell Louis about that. Instead, it sounds awed. 

“Know how many dances at weddings I’ve been bullied into?” Zayn laughs a little, almost self-consciously. “I’ve picked up some things.” He licks his lip, a nervous habit, but Louis can’t not look. 

“Okay.” Louis almost jumps at Liam’s voice, and his hands drop from Zayn. He’d forgotten anyone else was there. “That doesn’t look too hard.” 

“It’s not,” Zayn informs him, and flops onto the bed again. He looks totally unaffected. Louis pushes the dance back, away. Things he doesn’t think about. Things no one knows. 

“Yeah, if Malik can do it, so can you. So get up. We can practice.” 

“Maybe he should practice with Zayn,” Harry suggests. 

“No,” Louis snaps. Harry looks up from his phone, and he’s got his ‘i know your secrets’ smile on. Louis hates him. Hates that he doesn’t want Liam dancing with Zayn. Doesn’t want to see that. “I can follow. Come on, Liam.” 

He positions Liam’s hands on him, instructs him what to do, then prepares to tell Harry to start the music, but that means he has to look at the bed, where Zayn is. Where Zayn’s watching him with a look Louis can’t read, his eyes dark and intent on Louis. 

Push it back. Away. Louis’s not thinking about it. “Start the music.” 


	28. Chapter 28

_**Prompt: Sharing a dessert** _

“Hands off.” 

“Fuck you, you got the last bite.” 

“Yeah, and I ordered it, so it’s mine.” 

“Zayn.” Louis lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “If you don’t understand basic dessert sharing mechanics, I don’t know how you expect this relationship to work.” 

“Mechanics like you eating all my dessert?” Zayn glares, and knocks Louis’s fork away with his own. He’s wise to Louis’s tricks. “Not a chance.” 

“Sharing a key to a relationship.” 

“Then you should have chosen a better dessert,” Zayn retorts, nodding at the tart that’s sitting abandoned by Louis’s elbow. He digs his fork into his own cake, takes a big bite, and chews obnoxiously. “Yum.” 

“You’re an asshole.” Louis snaps. 

Zayn swallows, and licks his lips. “Yeah.” 

It makes Louis laugh, like he knew it would. Even after years of friendship, after months of doing–this, whatever this is, after finally deciding they should try a real fancy date, nothing feels quite so good as getting Louis to laugh with him, to smirk across the table, his face lit by candles, his hair swept up so Zayn can see all of his smiling face. 

“It’s a pity I only like you because you’re an asshole,” Louis sighs. His foot hooks around Zayn’s under the table, and Zayn glances down so Louis doesn’t see how that almost makes him blush. They’ve always been affectionate, but it’s different, now. Now that their banter and affection has changed context. “Okay. How about this. I get to eat half that cake, and then I’ll put out tonight.” 

“You’re going to put out tonight.” Zayn points at Louis with his fork, for emphasis. 

“Not if you don’t give me that cake.” 

Zayn leans forward a little, ducks his head so that he’s looking at Louis through his eyelashes. He licks his lips, slowly, pointedly, and watches Louis stare. “Yeah,” he says, keeping his voice low and raspy. “You are.” 

Louis stares a second longer, then he blinks, shakes his head. “You’re a bastard, Malik,” he says admiringly. “And lucky I’m not in a mood to take that dare.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to run.” 

“See, I’m being a good boyfriend. I’m putting aside my pride so we can shag tonight.” His lips curve over the word boyfriend, and there’s that warmth in Zayn again. 

“Oh, fine.” He pushes the cake halfway across the table. “you can have some.” 

“Yes! I knew I’d win.” Louis takes a gigantic piece of the cake. 

“Keep gloating and I’ll take it back.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” 


	29. Chapter 29

**_Prompt: Having their hair washed by the other_ **

“You better not fuck this up, Malik,” Louis warns, as he tips his head back into the basin. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Zayn. It’s not even that he doesn’t think Zayn is good at his job, because he knows perfectly well that he is, and that there’s a reason he’s one of the most in demand stylists in London. It’s more that it’s only been a week since his prank on Liam backfired so that Zayn’s morning tea was fucked up, and Zayn’s revenge has been known to be deadly. 

“Chill, bro. I’m not going to.” The water turns on, then the nozzle’s in Louis’s hair, sending warm water over his scalp. Zayn’s hand is warm against his forehead, then the back of his head, tipping it up so he can get under it. “I’ll have you looking your best.” 

“You better,” Louis warns, but it’s hard to be properly wary, with how Zayn’s gotten shampoo and is massaging it through his hair, his fingers just the right amount of firm against his scalp. It’s harder not to do something that would fuck their friendship up completely, like moan. “A lot depends on this.” 

“I know, I know. Your whole career. Chill. I’ve got you.” The water’s back, Zayn’s hand shielding his eyes. He’s so gentle. Louis had known that Zayn can be, better than most maybe, but it doesn’t mean it’s not soothing. Maybe people do request Zayn for more than just the leeway to stare at him in the mirror. 

Zayn’s fingers, covered with conditioner, are pulling through his hair, soft and deft. Louis should be restless by now, usually is, but it’s like Zayn’s hands are hypnotic, like they’re putting Louis to sleep. It’s enough that he doesn’t care that he’s almost literally baring his throat to Zayn. It’s just Zayn, after all. Zayn, and his magic fingers. In a hair context. Completely. 

The water’s back again, then it’s shut off and Zayn’s lifting his head, enough that he can get a towel over Louis’s shoulders. Louis lets him. He wonders if Zayn knows how special he is, that Louis lets him. 

“There,” Zayn says, and comes around so he can grin at Louis, big and excited. “Now come the scissors.” 

Maybe a little too excited. 


	30. Chapter 30

_**Prompt: "Sorry to all the people I hurt while I was hurting."** _

“What’s that?” Louis lifts his head from where it was resting on Zayn’s shoulder. He’d forgotten how soporific Zayn could be, or being around Zayn could be; how when Zayn decided it was time for him to be lazy and quiet Louis could be too. He’d missed that. Even if even now, he wont’ say that to anyone.

“It’s something I heard once.” Zayn shrugs, like that explains everything. His hand trails off of Louis’s shoulder as he gets to his feet, wanders towards the window. Louis gives one look back towards the room where Freddie’s asleep, but he has the monitor, he’ll hear if anything’s wrong. So he follows Zayn towards the window, watches as Zayn blows smoke out of it, careful not to keep it at all in the house where the baby is. It’s so annoyingly Zayn. To have bad habits, to tempt Louis with them, but to do them so thoughtfully.

“Great. Why’d you say it?”

“Dunno. Just, like. Thinking about it.” Zayn turns those big eyes on Louis, and if he thinks he’s subtle, he’s really fucking not.

“We had that fight already,” Louis points out. He settles on the window sill facing Zayn, so their feet are meeting in the middle. It feels like being back in a bunk with him, plotting things. Hiding from the world. Back when the two of them were always on the same side of it. “It was a few hours ago. Is all that weed making you forget?”

“Nah. Don’t think I’m forgetting that anytime soon. You’ve got some creative insults, bro.”

“I’m the only award winning songwriter here. Don’t you forget it.”

“Maybe not for long,” Zayn retorts, and blows more smoke out the window. The fingers of his other hand are drumming against his thigh, like they’re itching for something.

“Maybe not,” Louis allows. Zayn doesn’t need to know that he listened to all his music as it came out. That he hears it and tries to search for traces of them, of things he might have given Zayn, of influence he might have had. Of places, if things had gone differently, he might have helped shape it into something they all could have sung, together. That other times he hears it and is just stupidly proud, of the things Zayn fought for, even if the pride comes with loads of baggage. “So if you ever want pointers, I could give you a few…”

“Fuck off.” Zayn pushes at his knees; Louis lets them swing, then bumps them back into Zayn. “Don’t need anything from you.”

Louis winces. He can’t help it. He knows that, he does, he learned that well enough in the last year, but god it hurts to hear Zayn say it. Even now, with Zayn next to him, with bandaids on their friendship, it hurts, to know that Louis needed him and Zayn never needed Louis. To know he still has to rewrite their history, that–

“Stop. That’s not what I meant.” Zayn’s hand is on his cheek, forcing Louis to look at him. He still looks like he did a year ago, annoyingly pretty with his sparkling eyes and hair that he really needs to let be black again, in Louis’s opinion. “I was joking, Lou.”

“I know.” Louis tugs his face away, crosses his arms over his chest as he looks out the window, at the LA night. He hates this, too. Almost as much as he hated not talking to Zayn. The tentativeness between them. The way he’s still not sure where he stands, what’s allowed. That what was once the most natural thing in the world is hesitant now, unsure.

“Even if I wasn’t. There’s a difference between need and wants, yeah?” Louis can feel how Zayn’s still looking at him, still intent, even as Louis stares outside. “Lou–”

“We had this fight,” Louis interrupts him, turning his head abruptly. “We had this fight, and Freddie’s asleep so we can’t have it again now.”

Zayn opens his mouth, like he’s going to fight Louis on that, but then he subsides, blowing more smoke out the window, slumping back against the wall. “I didn’t want to. I just, like. I don’t know if I said it? That I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you’d get it.”

“I didn’t want to get it.” Louis shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about his anymore. He wants this to be done, wants the past year of Zaynless-ness to be done. Wants it to be ten years from now when they’ll laugh about the fights they’d had. They’re back, in a way, and getting better. That’s what matters. That’s what he’ll make matter. “Now get up. We can play some Call of Duty if the sound stays low.”

Zayn seems to get the message, of how they’re dealing with this. “You’re such a dad now, Tommo.” He grins, and unfolds himself from the windowsill. He carefully puts out the cigarette, waving the smoke out so it stays outside. “Keeping the sound low and shit. So old.”

“I am a dad. I am very mature, and I will still kick your ass,” Louis informs him, and elbows Zayn out of the way to the TV. Zayn elbows him back, throws an arm around his neck to try for a headlock, which Louis gets out of in time to shove Zayn into the couch. He hits it, giggling, his tongue tucked behind his teeth in his blinding smile, and Louis can feel that year falling away. It’ll be okay. One day, hopefully soon, they’ll be all okay again.


	31. Chapter 31

_**Prompt: Zayn is in jail for something small , and Louis the only one who can fish him out, and he comes all worried and shit** _

“You’re an asshole.”

Louis would be a lot more convincing if his hands weren’t running down Zayn’s arms as he said it, his gaze flicking up and down Zayn like he’s looking for injuries. If he hasn’t stormed into the station like the hurricane he is, loud enough that Zayn could hear him all the way down the hall as he bullied his way through the station on sheer force of will. 

“Love you too,” Zayn replies easily, resting his hands on Louis’s hips. They’re still just outside the police station, but Zayn doesn’t care. He wants Louis’s hands on him. Wants to comfort Louis, because it grounds him too. 

“A fucking asshole,” Louis repeats, and tugs Zayn roughly into a hug, pushing in close. Zayn drops his head so he can bury it in Louis’s neck, breathe in his scent. “Don’t do you dare do this again, okay? No getting arrested.” 

“Only because you said so,” Zayn agrees, and takes another long breath. Louis’s arms are solid around him, and it’s a better feeling than he’d like to admit, than he can admit. How much he needs Louis here; how when he heard his voice, sitting in that cell, his heart had leaped like Louis had been riding to his rescue on a white horse. 

“Fucking asshole,” Louis repeats, and tightens his grip. “Let’s go home.” 


	32. Chapter 32

_**Prompt:** **"Paint me like one of your French girls"** _

“Can we not joke about that?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but stays splayed out over the couch in the lounge they’d found. He’s comfortable. And he didn’t miss how Zayn was looking at him, when he’d stretched out, when a strip of skin showed above his shirt. He likes that look. “I told you, the ship isn’t going to sink.” It was funny the first few times Zayn had freaked out about it. Now it’s getting old.

“Says you. You’re Rose in this metaphor, you live.” Zayn pushes at Louis’s feet, but he doesn’t move them, so Zayn sits on top of him. It’s easy. It makes sense. It doesn’t make sense that they’ve known each other all of ten days, just met when the cruise started and Louis’d found the one other guy his age chaperoning his sister at the teen dance thing, but Zayn makes sense.

“I promise I’ll get you on the raft too. Which we won’t be on. Because the ship won’t sink.” Zayn’s hand is on Louis’s ankle. He does that, Louis’d noticed; the casual touches, almost absent-minded. It’s how he plays with his sisters’ hair when they’re next to him and neither of them appear to notice, how he hugs and kisses and doesn’t seem to notice that’s not a thing lads do, usually. Not that Louis minds. He likes the rub of Zayn’s thumb on his ankle, the absent circles; he likes when Zayn hugs him, he likes when Zayn kisses his cheek in thanks. He’d like it if Zayn actually kissed him, but he’s still not entirely sure if that’s a possibility. Zayn had talked about some ex-girlfriends, but he sometimes he says things that Louis thinks is probably flirting. Sometimes he looks at Louis in a way he knows, but he’s not sure Zayn knows. “And because there are enough lifeboats.”

“Are you sure? Did you count?”

“Yes. I counted every single one, so I’d make sure there was enough. Why are you even on a cruise if you’re afraid of water?”

Zayn shrugs. “The girls wanted to. I wanted to go with them.”

Louis lets out a long breath. God. Why does Zayn make so much sense? “Well. I won’t let you drown.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Louis doesn’t say anything about how some of his mates at home might be astonished to hear him admit something like that. That he usually isn’t like this, this, well, soft. That he’s defensive and prickly and doesn’t fall into people like this, doesn’t let someone into his heart in a matter of days. Zayn’s seen parts of it–he’s played pranks with Zayn, he’s mouthed off to people with Zayn giggling into his shoulder, he’s watched Zayn go off on someone for some shit he said with pure admiration–but not all of it. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that in one more week, they’ll dock, and Louis will go back to school where he’s too close to failing for comfort. Where he’s got to have walls because he doesn’t trust people easily.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. We’re on a cruise. You’re not supposed to be thinking sad things here.” Zayn makes a silly face at him, and Louis laughs, can’t help it. “And anyway, I’m the broody one, told you. It can’t be both of us.”

“You’re about as broody as a porcupine.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know, it means you aren’t broody or mysterious or whatever shit you said.” Louis retorts. Zayn had said, once, when they’d snuck some alcohol away from their parents, that he felt like people always thought he was mysterious. It’s bullshit. He’s not mysterious. Not to Louis. Not even after this short a time. “You’re a sap.”

“Yeah, well. Never said I wasn’t.” Zayn’s still rubbing at his ankle. It’s going to be a problem, if he doesn’t move soon–Zayn touching him so much, with his chin lifted and the shadows turning his face into a painting. “Seriously. Stop being sad or whatever. Do we need to go find somewhere to smoke?”

“Later.” Louis shakes his head, but. They have a week left, and it’s quiet here, a quiet it’s hard to find elsewhere on this ship. It’s just–them. Just them, and the way they make sense, and the week they have left before there’s no guarantee they’ll ever see each other again.

Fuck it. Louis’s not made for inaction.

“Zayn.” He sits up, extricating himself from Zayn in the process. Zayn lets him go, his gaze confused but interested.

“Yeah?”

“Just. Don’t punch me if I’m wrong, okay?” Louis doesn’t give him a chance to answer, before his hand’s on Zayn’s cheek, and it’s a pretty clear move, that, so he pauses, in case Zayn is going to punch him.

There’s no punching. Just Zayn’s big eyes, a little shocked but also a little daring, his lips curved like he doesn’t think Louis’s going to do it. But he is, and he does, and then he’s kissing Zayn, in their own little lounge on a big ship. Zayn doesn’t pull back, doesn’t punch Louis; his hand’s on Louis’s neck, keeping him there, and his mouth is opening under Louis’s and this makes sense too, how their mouths move against each other, how good Zayn feels, how he seems to know that if he bites at Louis’s lip he’ll moan into Zayn’s mouth. He needs more, needs all of Zayn, needs as much as he can take–he pushes at him until Zayn’s on his back and Louis’s properly on top of him, can kiss him well now, on and on and on, until if they don’t stop it’s going to get out of hand.

Zayn doesn’t move his hand on Louis’s neck, when he finally pulls away. He looks like a picture, spread out over the lounge, his hair messy and his lips swollen; he looks well kissed. Louis feels well kissed. He should have done that a week ago.

“Was wondering if you were ever going to do that.” Zayn’s lips curve.

Louis takes a second to process that, then he glares, and pokes Zayn’s collarbone. “If you knew it was going to happen, why didn’t you just do it?”

“I was sending pretty clear signals, bro. Your fault if you didn’t pick up on them.”

“I picked up on them now,” Louis retorts, and to make his point more flops down on top of Zayn. It backfires a little, because then Zayn’s hand is in his hair, carding through it, and Zayn’s really a very good cuddler. Of course he would be.

Louis’s almost asleep, and considering the merits of actually going to find somewhere to smoke, when, “Shit,” Zayn says, and he almost does sound shocked.

“What?”

“Now we’re one step closer to actually being Jack and Rose. I don’t want to drown.”

“The ship is not going to fucking sink,” Louis tells him, and kisses him again to shut him up.


	33. Chapter 33

_**Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”** _

“No.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not. He’s not jealous.

Zayn raises his eyebrows, but his main response is to wrap his arms around Louis and tug him closer. If Louis actually had any willpower, he wouldn’t let him, but it’s Zayn and Zayn’s hugs are magic brainwashing things, so he goes, lets Zayn tuck his head into his neck. He still smells like him, Louis notes, like his favorite cologne and cigarettes and just Zayn, but there’s also a hint of something else. Maybe Louis’s imagining it. Probably.

“So why’re you acting like a twat, then?” Zayn asks, when he’s properly situated himself. The best course of action is probably to ignore him, Louis decides, and stares out at the view from the balcony instead. It’s a shitty view, because no one they know can afford a flat with a proper view–Harry managed to scrape a balcony because Harry has all the luck, and Louis is not thinking about Harry right now, or luck. Instead, he pointedly doesn’t answer.

Zayn sighs against Louis’s neck. “Lou. Just because I hooked up with Harry doesn’t mean we won’t be best friends.”

“Hooked up!” Louis can hear how squeaky his voice is, and he hates it. “So it was just this once?”

“Yeah. Or, so far, don’t know if it’ll happen again.” Zayn shrugs. Louis can feel it against him, can feel all of Zayn against him, all of skinny too-warm previously-straight skin. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I definitely have a problem with you being–what, bi? Because I’m that much of a hypocrite.”

“Bi, yeah. I think. Dunno.” Zayn gives Louis one more squeeze, then turns so he can lean against the balcony, facing in. The party’s still going on inside, Louis can hear it. He should be in there, having fun. He would have been, if he hadn’t opened the wrong fucking door and found Harry fucking Styles straddling his best friend, Zayn’s hand somewhere that he definitely didn’t want to see. “Seriously. Even if I did start going out with Harry, it wouldn’t mean we wouldn’t be us. You don’t have to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” He’s not. He’s not jealous, he’s just…annoyed. Yeah, he’s annoyed, because he was supposed to be Zayn’s best friend, and he should be the one who Zayn trusts most. “If you were going to experiment, though, why didn’t you ask me?”

“You?”

“I’m a good snog.” Louis narrows his eyes, daring Zayn to disagree. “If you don’t like snogging me it’s because you aren’t into guys. You’d have figured it out. Why did you ask Styles instead?”

Zayn tilts his head, that stupid incisive look like he’s seeing too much of Louis. “I, like. I didn’t think you’d be up for it, honestly. You know Haz, he’s always up for casual.”

“I can do casual!”

Zayn snorts. “Lou, both your last relationships lasted at least six months.”

“And I had sex when I was single. Casual sex. Lots of it,” Louis points out. Zayn knew. Zayn definitely knew that. He was sure of it. “I can do casual.”

“So you’d rather I hooked up with you. But you’re not jealous.” Zayn says it like he’s tasting the words, like they aren’t obvious.

“Yes!” It comes out louder than Louis meant, so the word hangs there in the air between them. Louis’s confirmation that he’d like Zayn to hook up with him. “Not, I mean.” Louis hurries to clarify. “Not because I want to hook up with you. But I’m your best friend. I just want to make sure you aren’t going to get yourself hurt. Do something stupid, like fall in love with Harry. Because that’ll end badly!” he says, before Zayn can say anything. “You know it always does, and then you’d be a mess and I’d be sitting here thinking how I could have stopped this if he just hooked up with me instead.”

Zayn’s eyebrows are up, his lips curved into something fond. Louis’ heart thumps. Why did Zayn have to be so good looking? Except no, Louis’s pretty sure that Zayn could look like a troll and he’d still be amazing, still make Louis’s heart thump like that, because no one gets him like Zayn does and that’s nothing to do with the way his bones are sculpted. “I’m not going to fall in love with Harry.”

Louis snorts. “Sure. You say that now.”

“What, so I fall in love with everyone I hook up with?”

“Just about,” Louis shoots back. He knows how Zayn works. He needs something to do with his hands, so he takes out a cigarette, lights it. The drag doesn’t help, not when the smell of the smoke makes him think of Zayn.

“And you want me to hook up with you.”

“Because I’d be the exception!” Louis explains. Zayn should get this. Zayn should have already gotten this, and he wouldn’t be thinking, for a split second, about what it would be like if Zayn were in love with him. “So it’d be safe. Get with the program, Malik.”

“Get with your own program, Tommo.” Zayn reaches out, takes the cigarette right out of Louis’s fingers, and takes his own drag. “You’re jealous. I know what you look like when your sulking because you’re jealous, and this is what it is. Don’t worry. I’m not going to go play with the new toy and abandon you. Don’t say it,” He warns, before Louis can point out he did, once. They don’t talk about Zayn’s gap year. “You know what I mean.”

“And I’m not jealous. Why would you like Harry more than me? I’m much cooler. He would probably be mad at you for stealing his smoke.”

“Harry’s incapable of being mad,” Zayn observes, and just for that Louis steal the cigarette back. He takes another drag. There’s no way he can taste Zayn’s lips on the cigarette, it doesn’t work like that, he knows that. “Now can you just admit you were jealous and then we can go inside and stop freezing our asses off out here?”

“It’s not cold,” Louis retorts, mainly to be contrary. Zayn always runs cold.

“Louis.” Zayn’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing hard, solid. Zayn’s always solid. Always–or almost always–the one thing Louis can count on, can rely on. To always be where he expects it to be. “I love you, yeah? Nothing’s going to change that.” He squeezes again, then leans in close to kiss Louis’s cheek gently. His stubble scrapes against Louis’s, and Louis’s breath catches at the press of his lips. “Now i’m going inside before I freeze to death and you have to take care of Rhino for the rest of his life.”

“Liam’s getting Rhino,” Louis replies reflexively, because the amount Zayn dotes on that dog is another thing he doesn’t think about. Zayn laughs, and pats Louis again before he opens the door to inside.

Louis closes his eyes. The only thing there is that one image, seared into his brain, of Harry on top of Zayn, of Zayn’s swollen lips and the sound Harry’d pulled from him and how he’d moved against Harry. He wants to punch something. Wants to punch himself, to get that image out of his brain, that image and the anger that he knows is disproportionate.

“You could have asked me.” It’s quiet, but of course Zayn hears. He always hears. “I would’ve…you could’ve asked me.”

He can’t look at Zayn, so he keeps looking out at the shitty view, but he knows the door is open because the sound’s still there.

“I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t, with you.”

Louis does turn at that. Zayn’s just looking at him, that stupidly open, sincere look he gets sometimes, like he’s speaking right from his heart, like he’s putting everything out there in a way Louis’s never managed.

“What?”

“I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fall in love with you,” Zayn says, still with that look. Louis stares. He can’t–he doesn’t know how to do anything else. What the fuck does that mean? What is he supposed to do with that? How is he supposed to deal with that? “I’m going inside. Come find me when you’ve finished your smoke.”

Louis nods, on autopilot, and then the door’s closed and Zayn’s on the other side.

He takes another long, slow drag. He’s not jealous. He’s not. He just…would have taken care of Zayn better. Would have taken care of Zayn’s heart better, if he had hooked up with him. Could take care of Zayn’s heart best. If he wanted to. If he had been jealous. Which he wasn’t.

Louis hisses out a breath, then stomps out the cigarette. He needs to go inside, and find Zayn. At least to make sure he isn’t hooking up with Harry again. He can deal with everything else tomorrow.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Prompt: "Your cat always fucking pisses on my doormat"** _

“Maybe he just likes you.”

“Maybe he hates me.” Louis glares. 3b glares back. It is a pretty effective glare, Louis can admit. It would probably be more effective if he wasn’t cuddling a cat, but that would also take away from the full effect of him, and the full effect of him is a lot. Louis’d caught glimpses of him since he moved in a month ago, but their schedules were off so it was never more than a glimpse. All he’d known, up until now, was that he had dark hair and wore a leather jacket, played Usher just quiet enough to not be too loud to complain about, and that he smoked both weed and cigarettes on the balcony sometimes. And that he had a cat.

Now, he also knows that 3b is also inhumanly gorgeous. Which is not something he needed to know, all told. It was easier to be mad at him about his fucking cat when he didn’t know that.

“He doesn’t hate you,” 3b assures Louis. He presses a kiss to the top of the cat’s head. Louis’s not sure, but he’s pretty sure the cat is looking smug. “Tiger’s just having trouble adjusting to the new place, sorry.” He looks at Louis, and somehow despite being the same height it’s through long, dark lashes.

“Well, my doormat is having trouble adjusting to getting pissed on all the time.” Louis is not going to be swayed by a pair of big hazel eyes or a crooked smile at his quip. He is stronger than that.

“If it’s that big a deal I’ll get you a new one.” Now 3b straightens, and he’s not tall but he’s got presence. He’s wearing a tank top of a vintage Iron Man comic, which Louis can admit is pretty cool. And he’s rolling his eyes, which Louis does not take kindly to.  "Chill out.“

"I was chill the first two times!” Louis throws his hands up. He is chill. He is often very chill. But this has gone on too long. “Now, I’m telling you to deal with it.”

“And I told you I will.” 3b’s eyes narrow, and his jaw juts out. He’s not cowering even a little, which Louis is reluctantly impressed by. Most people tend to cower in the face of Louis’s anger–he’s been told he can be very intimidating. But 3b is just taking it and throwing it back. “So what do you want?”

“I want you to apologize.” He hadn’t known that until just now, but yeah, that works. He would like 3b to apologize. He’d like 3b to go down on his knees for Louis for other reasons, but that’s beside the point.

“Fine.” 3b sighs like he’s rolling his eyes, which is an impressive skill, then lifts up the cat so that it’s covering his face. He makes his voice go high and squeaky as he talks. “I’m very sorry for pissing on your welcome mat, even though you’re disproportionately assholish about it.” He lets the cat, who did not look pleased by that turn of events, down, then fixes Louis with a pointed look. “Happy?”

“That’s your cat voice?” Louis can respect the being called an asshole bit; he’s long since accepted he is one. But that he has problems with. “That was the worst cat voice I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, like you have a better one?”

“I do, actually.” Louis shakes out his hands like he’s preparing to fight. “Thuffering thucotash!” It’s a pretty good voice, if he does say so himself; his sisters all appreciated it.

“That’s just Sylvester from Looney Tunes!” 3b protests. “Tiger is not Sylvester.”

“How do you know?” Louis demands. “Do you see him all the time? Do you know what he’s always up to?”

“Well, he’s not black and white. And he runs away from birds.” 3b is game, Louis will give him that. “And he’s about fifty years too young. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Maybe all cats have lisps.”

“Maybe–” 3b cuts himself off, shakes his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. Really, do you want anything else?”

“I want to know what you were about to say.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest, and puts on his most stubborn expression. It’s been known to bring grown men to tears.

3b does not cry. 3b barely flinches. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” 3b confirms. Louis blinks. It’s not that people don’t say no to him often, it’s just that, well, people tend not to say no to him often. Liam says it’s because he’s a force of nature when he gets going. Lottie says it’s because he’s that annoying. But whatever reason, people usually need to be trained to say no to him. And here 3b is, saying it right away. “Now Tiger’s said he’s sorry, and I’ve got FIFA to get back to, so unless you’ve got something more to say…”

Louis knows when he’s been dismissed. But he also knows that hot guys who aren’t overwhelmed by him who also cuddle cats and live next door are not in high supply, especially ones who also like comic books and play FIFA. He’s not, contrary to popular belief, an idiot.

“FIFA?” he asks, and steps inside. As he expected, 3b instinctively gets out of the way, so Louis gets let in. “Great, my roommate just moved out and it was his game. I hope you’re good, because if I can kick your ass too easily it won’t be any fun.”

There’s a thump behind him, presumably as the cat jumps out of 3b’s arms. Louis ignores it. The apartment is basically the exact same as his, so it’s not hard to find the living room, where indeed a game of FIFA is paused. Louis takes in the stack of comic books, the piles of normal books, the vinyls, and the sketchpads, as he flops onto the couch. Yeah, 3b seems like a keeper.

“Zayn.”

“Hm?” Louis looks up from the comics he’s paging through to see 3b staring at him. He doesn’t seem dazed, like people often are, just vaguely amused.

“I figured if you’re invading my flat, you should know my name. It’s Zayn. And you wish you could kick my ass at FIFA.”

“Louis.” Louis nods. Tiger takes the opportunity to jump into his lap. He is a cute cat, Louis supposes. When not pissing on his welcome mat. “And you wish I wish I could kick your ass.”

Zayn settles onto the couch next to Louis, so their knees are brushing. He even has hot knees. How is that possible?

“Bet you your welcome mat I win.”

“You’re on.”

Louis never does get a new welcome mat. But getting a Zayn ends up being a better deal.


	35. Chapter 35

_**Prompt: finding the other wearing their clothes** _

“That’s my shirt.” 

“I know.” 

“You’re wearing my shirt.” 

“Yeah.” Zayn yawns, and shifts on the train seat so he can get closer to Louis. Louis’s actually a shit pillow unless he’s high; he gets fidgety and is a little bony. But he’s warm and smells like Louis and home and comfort. If only he would shut up for once. “Now be quiet.” 

“You just what, picked up my shirt and decided to wear it, instead of one of the many others I know are in your suitcase right now?” Louis’s voice is high and a little tense. He’s making a way bigger deal of this than he should. Zayn managed to make it to this ass o’clock train so they could continue on their post-university pre-real life backpacking trip, Louis needs to shut up and let him sleep. It’s only fair.

“Apparently. Why does it matter?” 

“It doesn’t.” Louis says it in the way he’s perfected, that means very clearly that it does. “Wear my clothes all the time. Whatever.” 

Zayn sighs, and picks up his head so he can see Louis properly. It makes his ass squeak on the plastic seats. “Lou. Do you not want me to wear your clothes?” 

“No, it’s just.” Louis shakes his head, glancing around like he’s worried someone’s going to listen in on them. The train’s mostly commuters in their own world, and they aren’t even in a country that speaks English, so Zayn thinks they’re probably okay, but he doesn’t say that because he’s a good person and he wants Louis to spit it out so he can sleep. “Why mine? You have plenty.” 

Because Louis’s clothes smell like him. Because wearing them makes this foreign country feel less foreign, like leaning on Louis makes the world feel more manageable when it all feels too much like it’s going to spiral out of control. “Because I want to,” Zayn replies, and closes his eyes again, tips over so he can sleep on Louis more. “Is that good enough? Seriously?” he adds, when Louis starts to move his arm. “If you’re going to be a bitch–”

“Shut up,” Louis snaps, but it’s without any venom. His arm wraps around Zayn’s shoulders, tugs him close so it’s more comfortable. “Now go to sleep.” 

Louis’s fingers are tracing the edge of the tank top that Zayn’s wearing. Zayn files that away to think about later, and goes to sleep. 


	36. Chapter 36

_**Prompt: high school au** _

1) They meet when Zayn doesn’t turn Louis in when he catches him picking the lock on the principal’s door, Louis second day there. Louis expects this kid to turn him in, but instead Zayn just tells him a better way to do it and then that the security guard will be along in five minutes before he heads back to the art room. The next day at lunch, Louis sits down with him and declares them partners in crime. It sticks. 

2) Louis’s the first person Zayn comes out to, their sophomore year. Louis takes it in stride, just tells Zayn very seriously he must never fall in love with him, Zayn assures him that’ll never happen, and then it’s back to normal, just being them. Louis doesn’t mind being just as cuddly as they ever were, just Zayn talks about guys he hooks up with rather than girls, and it’s all good. 

3) Louis takes Zayn to his first gay club, when he’s finally old enough to at least sneak in. He figures it’s his job, as slightly older best friend, to get him properly laid. Not that Zayn needs any help, he knows, because even he can see Zayn’s gorgeous, but still. he feels that he should supervise. And it’s a good thing he does, because of course plenty of guys descend and Louis needs to glare all of them away until Zayn’s settled, until he finds one he likes. Louis watches as he exchanges numbers with him, a slightly older guy, and ignores the twist in the pit of his stomach. It won’t change him and Zayn. Zayn can have all the boyfriends he wants. It won’t change them. 

4) Louis gets a girlfriend, anyway. She’s very nice. he likes her a lot. Zayn goes out with guys, and Louis has a girlfriend, and they’re best friends, and it’s all good. Zayn tells Louis about the guys he dates, sometime drops hints about what they did with a smirk, and Louis fist bumps him like he’s supposed to, and hints back about what he and his girlfriend did, and continues to ignore the knot in his stomach whenever Zayn leaves on a date. 

5) Louis and his girlfriend break up. It has nothing to do with Zayn. Not even if she says he spends so much time with Zayn they might as well be dating instead. It has nothing to do with Zayn, or with how Louis’s started looking, sometimes, when Zayn or his ex had pointed out hot guys, had found himself thinking yeah, maybe. Not even when he’s started to recognize that knot in his stomach as jealousy. 

6) Zayn’s expecting to go to prom stag, if he goes at all. Getting a date’s too much work, and Louis will find a girl, and he doesn’t like school dances anyway. So he’s surprised when Louis declares that they’re going together. Maybe Louis’s still shook up about his break up, he figures. It might not be great for the crush he can feel hovering just out of reach on his best friend, but he’ll get rid of that soon enough, he figures, probably once Louis finds a girl to dance with all prom, and it’ll be fine. 

7) what he doesn’t expect is Louis to stay close. To drag him out on the dance floor sometimes, drink punch with him and make fun of everyone else a lot of the time, sneak into the bathroom to bum a cigarette off of the kids there. The last dance, Louis drags Zayn out even though it’s a slow dance, and he’s stiff and a little awkward in a way they’ve never been. “You know how I told you not to fall in love with me?” Louis asks, sounding nervous. “How’d you do with that?” Zayn swallows. He thinks he did pretty well. Less so, lately. But pretty well. “told you it’d never happen,” he says. Louis must know he’s lying though. Louis always knows. “Yeah, well.” Louis still looks nervous, or maybe determined. “Maybe you should have warned me of the same thing.” 

8) they kiss under the cliche disco lights, then sneak away to properly talk things over. And make out in Louis’s car, which is more important. And they’re still partners in crime, they’re still them. Just. More so. 


	37. Chapter 37

_**Prompt: Fast and Furious AU** _

1) Louis likes the rush, and there’s nothing like it. Nothing like the speed and adrenaline and the feeling of having a car purring under you, the way he has to laugh as the car speeds forward. It’s like nothing else in the world. 

2) Zayn’s doing his duty, when he steps into the ring. When he flashes a smile and a dare at Tomlinson, whose answering grin is sharp as ice. When he slides into the car and they zoom forward, neck and neck, and Zayn can’t help his smile, as he shifts the car up a gear and inches ahead. Like he can’t help his smirk when he wins, and Tomlinson gapes at him for a second, before he laughs and punches his arm. he’s in. And that’s all he cares about. He’s in and he’ll bring them down. 

3) Zayn doesn’t expect–well, he doesn’t expect it to be fun, but it is. He’s usually good at keeping things separate, but he likes the whole crew, from Liam their mechanic, to Niall with his constant smile, to Harry and the banana peels he leaves everywhere. And then there’s Tomlinson–Louis. Louis and his sharp smiles and fierce protectiveness of his own crew. Louis and the easy way he makes Zayn laugh. Louis and the way Zayn can’t stop thinking about him, and not how to bring him down. Louis, and how Zayn knows, in his heart but without proof he can give his superiors, he didn’t do it. 

4) Louis wishes he’d seen Zayn’s face, when he calls in the medivac, when the ambulance shows up to take Harry and his blood away. Did he regret it? Did he regret anything? Louis doesn’t know, but he has to shut himself down, has to get them away. It’s only when he’s away that he starts to break things. Fucking Zayn. Fucking Zayn and how he’d trusted him and fuck, Zayn had just flashed a pretty smile and beaten him in a race and he’d just let him right in. Because he’d believed someone really could understand him better than anyone, could race with him side by side down the streets and laugh with him into the wind. Fuck that. 

5) Louis does see Zayn’s face when he lets him go. It’s pale and set, but there’s no regret in it as he turns over the keys, as he quips. No regret, and maybe–well, Louis loves the rush, so before he goes he limps over and kisses Zayn, hard and fast, like he’s wanted to since he first beat him on that race. He leaves Zayn with that kiss, hops into the car. And if he presses his hands to his lips, to remember a kiss that made him feel like he was flying down a street, well. He’s pretty sure this wasn’t the end. 


	38. Chapter 38

_**Prompt: Louis thought he was used to kids he has enough sisters so why wouldn't he think that. But it's different the kid is yours and he's a bit out of his depth. Then he thinks of Zayn who has a way w/kids. So he calls him after ignoring him.** _

He just doesn’t know anyone here, is the problem. That’s what Louis’s blaming it on. He’s in LA and he promised Brianna a weekend away and he can’t call her, and he doesn’t know anyone else who’s good with babies in LA, and it’s not like he can get his mum here from England in the next half hour, and he just–fuck it, he doesn’t know what to do. 

He looks at the wailing child in the crib, with her tiny hands and red face, and takes a breath. he can do it, for her. She’s so much more important than anything else. So he picks up his phone, and dials. 

He starts talking as soon as the call connects. “Don’t hang up. I just need–fuck, do you know where to get a baby thermometer in LA at this hour? or something? She won’t stop crying.” 

Zayn’s voice is raspy, probably with sleep, because Louis’s lost track of what time it is sometime after the fourth time she’d cried herself awake. “Louis?” 

“She won’t stop crying,” Louis repeats, and he feels like he’s going to cry, and he needs–fucking hell, he can admit it, he needs Zayn. Needs his best friend, even if he’s still furious at him. “She just won’t.” 

Zayn’s going to hang up. Louis’d picked fights, ignored his calls for months, changed his number. He’d had reason to do all that, and he’ll stick to it, but the fact is he had and he knows Zayn. He’s going to hang up, and Louis will be all alone again. 

“Tell me where you are,” Zayn says, and Louis can hear him moving, the tell-tale noise of Zayn dragging him out of bed. “And what else you need.” 

“I’m still mad at you,” Louis warns, because it seems only fair. 

“Same,” Zayn replies matter-of-factly. “Now tell me where I”m going.” 

Louis does, then scoops her up in his arms again, holding her close despite her ear-splitting wailing. “Zayn’ll be here soon,” he murmurs to her. “Then everything will be better.” 


	39. Chapter 39

the au (probably uni or older) where LiLo is doing it’s close bro thing, with Liam as “Louis’s boy”. Then Liam meets Zayn, and suddenly Louis’s threatened–who is this new person Liam’s going on about? Who Liam’s spending so much time with? Who Liam’s quoting as having all these Opinions like he’s an authority? 

So Louis’s possessiveness kicks into high gear, because Liam’s his boy, thank you very much. And he’ll show this Zayn character that. So he starts tagging along with Liam all the time, making sure Zayn knows Liam already has a best friend and he is Not Wanted. Except, like. Well. Maybe he sort of sees why Liam likes Zayn so much. Maybe he sort of doesn’t mind Zayn hanging around. Maybe he likes talking to Zayn, likes bickering with him and looking at him and making him laugh. But he’s really only there so that Zayn knows he can’t go stealing Louis’s best friend. And if he starts hanging out with Zayn outside of Liam, it’s just to show him how cool he is, how Zayn can’t compare. Kissing Zayn is a little harder to explain, but Louis figures his face explains that well enough–it’s not like anyone wouldn’t want to kiss that face. Sleeping with him gets the same explanation.

By the time Liam starts talking about them as a couple, grinning like it’s not totally his fault, Louis’s having a harder time explaining it. But he can’t really complain. Liam’s still his boy. And he likes that his boyfriend and his best friend are great friends too. 


	40. Chapter 40

_**Prompt: The Little Mermaid au**_  

  * It’s the dog that really gets Zayn. He loves animals and pets, and the dog is just–it’s so interesting, and there’s fur and everything, and Zayn just wants to see more things like it. The lovely man with the dancing eyes is just a plus, really. Admittedly, a plus that becomes pretty important. 
  * The thing about the boy fished out of the ocean–Louis needs to find a name for him–is that he’s weird. Louis likes weird things, generally, so he’s okay with him using a fork as a comb or jumping out of his skin the first time he sees fireworks. But he’s weird. And he also doesn’t talk, but Louis’s fairly used to him dominating conversations, so that’s okay. And he never feels like it’s one-sided. He feels like he can read a whole sentence in the boy’s eyes. 
  * Zayn misses the sea. Desperately, painfully. It hurts, the need for it. It’s better when he’s with Louis, when Louis’s showing him around and instructing him how to do things, or even when they’re just sitting together, Louis joking and Zayn either laughing or rolling his eyes. But when he’s alone, the need is desperate, not just for his family but for the water, the ocean depths, away from this too-thin air and the way all the people here only think in two directions. 
  * The first thing Zayn says to Louis is “hey”. Louis never stops teasing him about that, that that’s the first thing he says, not any romantic declaration or even ‘duck there’s a sea monster!’, but ‘hey’. They get into long arguments about what Zayn should have said, and Louis never admits it but he mainly likes the arguments because he’s never tired of hearing Zayn speak. 
  * Sometimes, even years later, Zayn looks out at the ocean, and Louis knows he’s gone somewhere Louis can’t follow. He’s waiting for the day Zayn wades into the sea and never comes back, honestly, waiting for the day when the need for his home and the sea becomes too much and he leaves for good. Zayn laughed the one time he told him that, told him that Louis was being ridiculous and he loved him and he loved the land he’d come to call his own, but he can’t see the look in his eye. Until then, though, Louis just holds on tight, and brings him back to solid ground. 




	41. Chapter 41

_**Prompt: Tangled AU** _

1) Zayn’s…fine with his life. Really. He loves his mother, and he’s not ungrateful, and the tower has everything he could want, and his chameleon friend Niall is the best friend a boy could have, and he has his books and his paints. But. But maybe he’s bored. Maybe he’s been feeling fenced in, like there’s so much more to the world he doesn’t get to see, like he’s growing up and his mother isn’t letting him. Which might lead to some backtalk sometimes, but really he thinks his mother is being a little dramatic with all her warnings of the outside. It can’t be that bad–nothing that makes those floating lights on Zayn’s birthday every year can be that bad. He just wants to see the lights. He’s old enough now. He could. 

2) Louis doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he climbs into the tower, but he has to admit that he is definitely not expecting the pretty boy with white blonde hair of a frankly unheard of length (And seriously, that has to be dyed, right, because while it works with his coloring it doesn’t look quite right). And certainly not for that boy to hit him with a frying pan. And definitely not for that boy to quite handily blackmail him into taking him to see the lanterns, though Louis has to respect him for that. And the chameleon is 100% a surprise. 

3) The outside world is amazing. Zayn knows Louis’s being grumpy about how cool everything is, but it’s so awesome, and he gets the feeling Louis’s grumpy a lot, or at least cynical a lot. But as long as Zayn doesn’t think about how angry his mother will be when he gets back, or worry a bit about what Louis will do when he sees his hair, he’s having the time of his life. Even if Louis’s an asshole for telling him the bridge flips over when you’re halfway over it. But Zayn gets his own back by telling him shit about just what the berries he’d been eating can do. 

4) Louis doesn’t mean to like Zayn, particularly. He just has to get him to the capital so he can get the crown back. That’s all. But it’s just…Zayn’s wideeyed wonder is cute, sometimes. And he’s got a mouth on him Louis can appreciate. And there’s just something about him, something magnetic, that makes people like him–even the criminals in the bar, all those grown men infatuated with him in an instant. Him and his big dreams. Louis remembers having big dreams. 

5) If everything about Zayn is a surprise, the hair–the hair is more than that. Louis doesn’t know what to say. Zayn’s hair glows. Zayn’s hair heals wounds. Of course this boy with his brilliant smile and sunlit smile would have hair that glows. Louis doesn’t know why he expected otherwise. Though NIall’s knowing look isn’t appreciated. 

6) Liam is the horse, btw. He takes his job very seriously. The criminal needs to be taken in. Even if the boy with him is nice and seems like a good egg, and really deserves to see the lanterns, so he’ll cut them a little slack. Just this once. 

7) Louis sets up the lantern boat. Zayn hasn’t known Louis long, but it feels like forever, and this feels like something he would do–would get Zayn the boat, and the lantern, to light the fire for the lost prince. They’re even more beautiful in person, and Zayn can’t help yearning for his paints. But then he sees Louis looking at him from across the boat, all his cynicism gone, just smiling at him, and he forgets about the lanterns, and the paints, and everything else but him. 

8) Being imprisoned doesn’t matter. What matters to Louis is that he left Zayn, or it must have seemed like that, and he needs to get to him. He needs Zayn to know he didn’t sell him out, he never would, that he means more than all the jewels in the crown, and he never thought he’d say that. 

9) Zayn’s heart will break about his mother later, he thinks. About her betrayal, about everything he didn’t know. But his head is light with the weight of the hair fallen around him, and his mother’s–not his mother’s–yell is loud as she falls, and Zayn can’t hear it, because Louis is bleeding. Louis had come for him. He tries to sing, but he can tell it’s not working, Louis’s wry smile isn’t changing, it has to change, he needs to think of something crying won’t help–but then it does, and he hears Louis’s laughter, his fingers tucking a lock of Zayn’s hair behind his ear. “I like the black better,” he murmurs, and Zayn can’t help his own laughter, “Seems more you.” 

10) Zayn always needs his solitude, even after everything–after going back to the city, after the welcome of his family, his real family, after Louis’s exoneration and own welcome, which is a weirdness of it’s own. But Louis always knows where to find him, sitting up at the highest tower, looking out the window. His hair is short for him, long for others, brushing his chin, but he’s still somehow both the pretty boy Louis’d met in that other tower and the man he’d grown to love. So Louis finds him, and sits next to him, and together they watch the lanterns rise into the sky to celebrate Zayn’s return. 


	42. Chapter 42

_**Prompt: Pirate AU** _

1) Louis is the captain of his ship, and thus, in his mind at least, captain of the seas. No one can catch them, anyway, and he lives and dies by that–by the wind in his sails and the creaking of the deck and the brothers he has on his ship. It’s a pirate’s life for him, always has been, rough and tumble as it may be. Life on land has never held a candle to it. His sword in his hand, the sea wind in his hair. And Zayn next to him, of course. His first mate. His right hand. The one person he relies on more than any other. 

2) Zayn grew up on land, a minor aristocrat who ran away to sea. he never talks about the family he left, never talks about why. Louis knows a little more than the others–about disgrace and fear and fire–but no one asks questions. It’s part of why he likes it here, on the ship. And he’s grown to like the rest of the life too, loves how the blood sings in his veins, how the ship works together like one man. Loves the gold and the wine and the challenge of it, loves too every time they take an English ship and he can get his revenge. And Louis, of course. Louis, who’s technically his superior but calls him his partner. Who took him in when he was lost. Who he fights beside like they’re of one body. Who he tries his hardest not to think about in any improper way, because he won’t ruin this new family like that too. 

3) They’re on the streets of Port Royal, heads tipped down so none of the guards passing give them too close a look while they wander, when a carriage pulls to a halt beside them. Louis can feels Zayn’s hand on his sword, knows his own is there too, but the cry that comes out is female. “Mr. Malik? Mr. Zayn Malik?” comes the voice, and Zayn starts, his eyes widening in a way that makes Louis bristle all over again, but then a woman is bustling out of the carriage with her skirts trailing around her and throwing herself at Zayn, who catches her in a hug. “I saw you from the window and thought it must be you! What are you doing in Port Royal? And with such company?” She gives Louis a glance that makes it clear she sees all his common blood. Louis sneers back. Zayn releases her. he’s standing differently, when he answers, his back stiff. “Hello, Lady Edwards,” he tells her, bowing courteously, and Louis’s stomach does something that makes him think he had too much wine. 

4) The men all laugh, when they see Zayn decked out in his lordly clothes, for the dinner Lady Edwards invited him too. Louis sits on the deck and scowls, watching Zayn fix his coat. He looks handsome, in his hose and coat. He looks like the lords Louis’s always hated. He looks like he’ll fit in up on that house on the hill. With the woman who, she’d informed Louis that afternoon, in the brief time of their conversation, had been a childhood friend and once his betrothed, before it was broken off– “my fault, i’m afraid,” she’d laughed, looking at Zayn, who was gazing back at her like a marooned man looked at the rescuing ship. “I found that in the end, we would not suit.” Louis’d nodded like he knew what that meant. He hadn’t much cared. Not when Zayn was quiet on the walk back to the ship. Not when he looks like a noble here, like the gentleman he is, not fit for Louis and his boat. “If you find you fit in there too well, don’t bother coming back,” Louis tells him, glaring, before he leaves. Zayn just gives him a final, unreadable look before he leaves. 

5) Dinner with Perrie and her husband is nothing Zayn ever expected to happen. Seeing her is like being home again, the home he’s been forbidden from; she has news of his sisters and his parents and the land that would have been his. But it’s a reminder of the world he left as well, and the one he’s found–so far from the informal mess of the men, or the nights in Louis’s cabin, both of them drunk on wine when Louis’s collar comes unbuttoned and Zayn guiltily drinks in the skin revealed there. He’s lost much, in his life–but he’s gained plenty too. And at the dinner, as the final course is being cleared away and the servants are gone, Perrie shares a look with her husband. “I must admit,” she says, slowly, “That I did not ask you here solely to reminisce of our childhood. I have heard what happened to you. How you’ve been keeping yourself, these past years.” Zayn’s hand drops to his sword. The window is behind him. He could get to the ship, get away– “Oh no!” Perrie laughs, and her husband chuckles too. “No, I would not turn you over, Zayn. No, we have–a business proposition, if you will. If you would care to hear it.” 

6) Louis’s waiting for Zayn to come back. He didn’t mean to be, meant to be out at the tavern with the men, but somehow he’s sitting on the deck of the ship, watching the docks. Then the figure coming towards him resolves into Zayn, and Louis’s never been so relieved. He doesn’t say it, of course, and Zayn doesn’t say anything about him waiting, just goes into his cabin with Louis following, stripping off all his finery for the loose breeches and shirt he favors, until he’s Louis’s Zayn again. “Did you have a good visit?” Louis has to ask, then. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you and the lovely Lady Edwards have a fine time renewing your acquaintance?” Louis can’t stop himself. “Did you show her the stamina a pirate’s life has given you?”

“Don’t speak like that of a lady,” Zayn tells him, mildly. It’s not a no, Louis can’t help but notice. 

“Show her your sword?” Louis goes on. “Plunder her–”

“You know I didn’t,” Zayn cuts in sharply, with a meaningful look, and Louis goes quiet, his face red. They don’t talk about that. About how Zayn turns down the women who throw themselves at him, how he leaves the taverns alone. Louis knows what that usually means, but he’d never been sure if those women were simply beneath his blue-blooded notice. But no, apparently not. Not even the lovely Lady Edwards would suit. 

“Oh,” is all he can think to say. It’s not something to speak of. Not even when Zayn, who is handsome beyond compare, is looking at Louis with his eyes large and deep, pretty as a girl’s. 

7) Zayn can tell he scared Louis. Said things he never meant to say. So he avoids him a little, for the next few weeks. So Louis can pretend he never heard Zayn admitting what he did and that everything is normal. They find a ship to attack, take it easily, but Zayn stays on their ship while Louis leads the attack. They haven’t even talked about Perrie’s proposal, though he did tell Louis of it. He just waits. Waits to see if this family will be taken from him too. 

8) Louis hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, since Zayn told him. Since he confirmed. Louis’s never thought about men that way, he’s always been a good Christian boy despite everything and he’s never let himself consider it. But now…Now, he calls Zayn into his cabin, and shuts the door, and kisses him before he can think more of it. Zayn lets out a breath into Louis’s mouth, and he’s stiff in Louis’s arms, and it’s entirely different from kissing a woman. “What is this?” Zayn asks, pushing Louis away. He doesn’t look angry. He looks afraid. “I don’t know,” Louis tells him, and manages a grin. “But it’s an adventure.” 

9) The ship beneath their feet, the wind in the sails, a sword on their belts, each other at their sides. Yo ho ho. It’s a pirate’s life for them. 


	43. Chapter 43

**_the post-match Zouiall, because someone had to write it:_ **

“So how does it feel to be a loser?” Louis taunts. Niall rolls his eyes, but he laughs back. It feels good, to be sitting with Niall like this. This whole week has felt good, hanging out with friends, playing footie, doing things for a good cause. Being back with Niall, bantering with him like old times. And now winning. Winning feels best of all. Louis’s drunk with it, it and what he’s drunk at the afterparty but mainly victory.

“You’re such a bad winner,” Niall tells him, and Louis kicks him–his ankle, and on his good leg, because Louis talks a good game but he wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt Niall, ever. He loves Niall. Loves that the instant they saw each other again it was like no time at all had passed. It gives him hope, that it’ll be like that with everyone, that they might be apart now and it’s not like it was but he’ll always have his brothers. “Do I need to get Olly over here to pour water on you?”

“Says the loser,” Louis snorts, and tips back more champagne. “Do you have one of these?” He lifts the medal off his chest. “I don’t think so. I’m wearing this forever.”

“You’ll lose it,” Niall retorts, but he’s laughing too. Everyone’s laughing. It’s great. There’s the pang that’s Freddie being so far away, but other than that, Louis’s on top of the world like he hasn’t been since Drag Me Down dropped.

“I will not! I keep careful track of all my possessions,” Louis retorts, which they both know is false but whatever. He kicks Niall again, so he won’t remember to call Louis out on the lie, but also won’t go back inside, to where the party’s still going. They’ll go back in eventually, back to the rest of their friends, but right now Louis likes it out on this balcony with just Niall. “And I have a medal to keep track of, unlike some losers.”

“Fuck off.”

“Never.” Louis ruffles Niall’s hair affectionately. It’s a little gross and sweaty and there’s the remnants of gel in it, but even that is familiar. “Not even your tricks could get me to lose.”

“Tricks?”

Louis gives Niall his best deadpan stare. “Your sly Irish strategies to throw me off my game. But I am unthrowable.”

“There were no Irish strategies!” Niall protests, around a mouthful of beer. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, and being Niall Louis could tell, but he knows. “And fuck off again.”

“Yeah? So you didn’t chose the warm up music?” Louis’s drunk enough it only hurts a little, thinking about that–about how the song had come on and his jaw had clenched despite itself, trying to stay focused as he did the drill. Everyone else had been professional enough that they didn’t seem like they were looking at him, but it felt like they were. Like everyone was, to see his reaction, to Zayn’s voice over the loudspeakers, intruding onto this day of victory. But he’d won anyway, and fuck Niall and Zayn both.

“I didn’t.” Niall’s smile’s gone, and he’s giving Louis that look he gets sometimes when it feels like he knows too much. Louis hates it, how as well as he knows Niall Niall knows him too. “You still haven’t talked to him, then?”

“Have you?”

Niall shakes his head slowly. Louis wants to change the subject, but they have to talk about it sometime, and might as well get it out of the way to go back to the party without thinking about it. They’d already caught up about everyone else, talked about Harry’s movie and Liam’s girlfriend and all that. Zayn was the only one left. “I was as surprised as you, when the song came on.” He shrugs, carefully. “Of course, it didn’t throw me off at all.”

“Says the loser,” Louis tosses back, like he’s supposed to, but it doesn’t feel as good as it did a minute ago. He’d heard the song before, of course, couldn’t escape it, but not enough that it was familiar. Not enough that he’d expected Zayn’s voice when it started, like a blast from the past. Like Zayn had been there with him, even though even at their height Zayn only stepped foot on a football field when Louis’d blackmailed him into it. It’s a shadow on this perfect day, though. Louis didn’t want to think about his failures, just his wins. Of course Zayn would fuck that up too. He needs to drink more, to distract himself.

“You should call him,” Niall says suddenly, and Louis whirls to glare at him. Niall’s looking at his beer, but his expression’s pensive. “It’s been long enough, hasn’t it?”

“Then you should call him,” Louis retorts. He’s too high on winning and being with Niall again to really be mad, but why ruin a nearly perfect day even thinking about this? “I’m not the only one who hasn’t talked to him.”

“Fine.” Niall looks up, meets Louis’s gaze, and his jaw is set stubbornly. Shit. Louis’d forgotten, somehow, that Niall’s easygoing until he’s not. He and Zayn had been like that, able to be pushed until they set their feet and wouldn’t move. Liam and Harry had been easier, always able to be coaxed places even if they seemed more stubborn on the face of it. And Niall has his determined expression on. “Come on, we’re doing great, yeah? You just won! What better time? We can both facetime him.”

“Where is he? Would he even pick up?” It’s not back pedaling, it’s just practicality. That’s all. “And we should get back in to the party.”

“Oh? Are you afraid, Tommo?” Niall’s got a smile like he knows what he’s doing, and Louis knows what he’s doing, and he’s still falling for it, because he pulls out his phone.

“I’ll do it,” he warns.

“Will you?” Niall asks, and he’s grinning and Louis hates him sometimes, he does, even if he loves him to pieces. “I don’t know. You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s been avoiding it for a year.”

“Why do you even care?” Louis demands.

Niall shrugs again. “We’re together. I’m in a good place. If it goes to shit we can just go back into the party. I miss him.” He gives a wry smile. “If we’d be talking you know he’d have texted about it, you know? Said some shit about us both being losers. I miss getting that.”

Louis swallows. Niall’s always been far more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. He missed that. “If this goes south it’s all your fault.”

“If this goes south, you’re still a winner,” Niall points out, and throws an arm around Louis’s shoulder, so they’ll both be in the screen when–if–the facetime goes through. Louis doesn’t even know if Zayn changed his number. “You’ll still have the medal.”

“You’re fucking right I will,” Louis mutters, and watches the call connect. Louis swallows. Niall’s fingers are digging into his shoulder–he’s more nervous than he’s letting on. But Louis’s on top of the world, and he has Niall next to him again, and he’s won. Talking to Zayn…maybe it won’t ruin a nearly perfect day.

Niall’s fingers convulse as Zayn’s face appears on screen, wary and drawn but so achingly familiar.

“Hey,” Niall says. At least he can talk.

“Hey,” Zayn replies slowly, and his gaze flicks between the two of them. “Who won?”

And Louis starts to laugh, almost hysterical, as two pairs of eyes watch him in confusion he thinks is fond. Something’s clicking into place, like it felt seeing Niall again. Like bonds shifting and changing but not breaking. “I did,” he says, still laughing, and holds up the medal for Zayn to see. “I won.”


	44. Chapter 44

_**Prompt: Zouis as best friends who are in love with the other and everyone knows but them** _

  * Everyone is always shocked by the fact that Zayn and Louis haven’t actually known each other very long. They met in their last year at university, when Zayn had a one night stand with Louis’s roommate and had, through a convoluted series of events, ended up cuddling with Louis in Louis’s bed instead. That’s only a few years ago–they weren’t childhood best friends. But something clicked in them. (”Soulmates,” Harry says knowledgeably, when asked. Niall usually cuffs his head at that point). 
  * Louis likes to moan about how no one will ever go out with him. Liam once pointed out that maybe he’d have better luck pulling people if he didn’t have Zayn hanging off of him the instant he gets a little drunk like he’d die if he wasn’t touching Louis. Louis just looked at Liam in utter incomprehension, like he couldn’t understand why there would ever be a world where he wouldn’t let Zayn cuddle him whenever Zayn wanted. 
  * No one is subtle about teasing them. They started out trying to be, hinting that maybe they should act on their feelings, but as Zayn and Louis’s obliviousness grows, it gets less subtle. About the time Niall comes back to their flat to find Louis frantically trying to make chicken soup for Zayn because he was feeling poorly and needed comforting, they gave up all pretense of subtlety all together. Zayn and Louis assume the teasing is just because they’re best friends. If they’ve never felt this way for any of their best friends before, well, each friendship is different. 
  * Locking them together in a closet has been tried. It resulted in them breaking out and locking everyone else in separate closets until favors were promised. 
  * Louis notices first. He’s scrolling through his Facebook, looking at all his friends who are getting engaged, and suddenly, almost out of the blue, realizes that there is no one he would rather marry then Zayn. He looks over to where Zayn’s playing video games, and yes, he realizes. He would like to marry Zayn someday, and kiss him, and all those other things he hadn’t realized he’d thought before but huh maybe he has. Being Louis, he doesn’t bother to waste time–he politely waits for Zayn to finish his game, climbs into Zayn’s lap, and kisses him. Zayn takes a moment, which Louis figures is to go through the same thought processes Louis just went through, then he’s kissing Louis back, and it’s a little awkward because they know each other so well and not at all like this, but they figure it out pretty quick. “So that’s, like, a thing,” Zayn says, when they separate. “Guess so,” Louis agrees. “Maybe we should have listened to the others.” “Don’t be crazy,” Louis tells him, and rolls off his lap to grab the video game controller. “FIFA?” And that is that. 
  * No one notices for a month. 
  * Liam and Harry are still fighting about what that means for who wins the pool. 



**Author's Note:**

> Liked these? Want to discuss or see more as they're posted? Comment or come chat on [ tumblr](http://zaynandhisboys.tumblr.com/) or go to the full archive at [ my drabble blog](http://stormdirection.tumblr.com/)!


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